Settling Down: World War II Veterans' Challenge to the Postwar Consensus

Settling Down

This page intentionally left blank

Settling Down World War II Veterans’ Challenge to the Postwar Consensus

Robert Francis Saxe

Settling Down Copyright © Robert Francis Saxe, 2007. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. First published in 2007 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™ 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS. Companies and representatives throughout the world. PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978-0-230-60060-7 ISBN-10: 0-230-60060-3 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Saxe, Robert Francis. Settling down : World War II veterans' challenge to the postwar consensus / by Robert Francis Saxe.—1st ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN-13: 978-0-230-60060-7 ISBN-10: 0-230-60060-3 1. World War, 1939-1945—Veterans—United States. 2. United States—Social conditions—1945- 3. Consensus (Social sciences)—United States—History— 20th century. 4. Kennedy, John F. (John Fitzgerald), 1917-1963. 5. Film noir— United States—History and criticism. 6. Popular culture—United States—History—20th century. 7. American Veterans Committee—History. 8. African American veterans—Social conditions—20th century. 9. United States—Race relations—History—20th century. I. Title. D810.V42U675 2007 973.918—dc22

2007012573

A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library. Design by Scribe Inc. First edition: November 2007 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Raka, Maya, and Neel

This page intentionally left blank

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction

1

1

2

3

4

5

“The Reception Committee”: Soldiers, Citizens, and the Veteran’s Return

11

“The New Generation Offers a Leader”: Lt. John F. Kennedy’s 1946 Race for Congress

53

Kiss the Blood Off My Hands: The Film Noir Veteran’s Quest for Meaning in Postwar America

83

“Citizens First, Veterans Second”: The American Veterans Committee and the Challenge of the Cold War*

117

“The Negro Is No Longer Sleeping”: African American Veterans and the Limits of Consensus

155

Conclusion

191

Notes

195

Bibliography

215

Index

225

*Chapter 4 originally appeared in somewhat different form in War and Society 22, no. 2, (2004), 75–94.

This page intentionally left blank

Acknowledgments

would like to thank several people for their support in completing this book. My dissertation advisor, Mark Leff, provided sound guidance and timely editing throughout the entire project. I would also like to thank Jim Barrett, Anna Dronzek, Tim Huebner, Jeff Jackson, Ronald Krebs, David McCarthy, Charles McKinney, Elizabeth Pleck, and Joseph Pleck who all offered advice and comments at different stages of this project. Further thanks go to the members of the American Veterans Committee (AVC) for taking the time to talk with me about their experiences. Frank Bourne, J. Arnold Feldman, Ben Neufeld, Gus Tyler, June Wilenz, and Howard Zinn were very giving of their time to my chapter on the AVC. Thanks also go to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library for providing me a research grant and to the Organization of American Historians for awarding me the Horace Samuel and Marion Galbraith Merrill Travel Grant in TwentiethCentury American Political History. I also received financial support from the history department at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign in the form of a predissertation travel grant and a graduate fellowship. Meredith Nix was indispensable to the final completion of this project. I would also like to thank my friends and family for all their aid and best wishes. Finally, I would like to thank my wife, Raka Nandi, whose unwavering support and fierce editorial suggestions made this book possible.

I

This page intentionally left blank

Introduction

n Memorial Day, 2004, the United States solidified its admiration for one of the most heralded groups of Americans in history— World War II veterans. On this day, President George W. Bush and crowds in excess of two hundred thousand paid tribute to this group of ex-soldiers by dedicating the National World War II Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, DC. The failure to create a national memorial until 2004 seems surprising, given that the American soldiers from this war retain an almost mythic place in modern American society and culture. Pearl Harbor, D-day, and Hiroshima are all crucial parts of America’s collective memory.1 Perhaps the best example of America’s reverence for World War II veterans was the 1999 publishing phenomenon of television anchorman Tom Brokaw’s immensely successful collection of oral histories, The Greatest Generation. In it Brokaw encapsulates the feelings of many Americans about the World War II generation:

O

They answered the call to help save the world from the two most powerful and ruthless military machines ever assembled. . . . They faced great odds and a late start, but they did not protest. When the war was over, the men and women who had been involved, in uniform and in civilian capacities, joined in joyous and short-lived celebrations, then immediately began the task of rebuilding their lives and the world they wanted. They were mature beyond their years, tempered by what they had been through, disciplined by their military training and sacrifices. They married in record numbers and gave birth to another distinctive generation, The Baby Boomers. They stayed true to their values of personal responsibility, duty, honor, and faith.2

2

SETTLING DOWN

Brokaw went on to laud this generation for taking advantage of the opportunities presented by the GI Bill, creating the postwar economic boom, and fighting against Soviet totalitarianism. In particular, he singled out this generation’s veterans for praise, showing them to be men and women of great moral courage who were able to foster a sense of unity in a time of crisis in the United States and the world. The coverage of the dedication of the National World War II Memorial reinforced this view of the successes of the Greatest Generation in construction of the postwar nation, even as it cast an unfavorable light on the political and social unity of America in 2004. With the U.S. invasion of Iraq and lack of trust in the government splitting Americans into competing camps, memories of a supposed “simpler time” were a welcome change for people of all generations. In a piece about the memorial on the news program Good Morning America, the interviewer asked two World War II veterans about comparing the eras: the war years and today. The vets responded by stating that they regretted that Americans today have not displayed the same sense of unity and purpose as they had in defeating the forces of Fascism in the 1940s. One vet said, “I wish there was more unity, but I guess these are the times and then we have to . . . roll with punches, I guess.” Following the piece, anchorman Charles Gibson commented that at least Americans would be “united and saluting [World War II veterans] at the World War II Memorial for its dedication.”3 Even in a divided nation, Americans can come together in their support for the citizens that were able to put aside differences and overcome arguably the most difficult obstacles in American history. These were feelings I understand. When I set out to research the role of veterans in the rebuilding of the postwar nation, I was expecting to find veterans, without complaint, rolling up their sleeves and setting about the tasks of creating a new superpower. Although this undoubtedly described many veterans, I quickly realized the unity of the nation’s soldiers was more fractured than had been portrayed by Brokaw and others. Time and again, my research into the immediate postwar years found the voices of many ex-servicemen criticizing the conduct of the war, the character of home front America, and the development of the postwar nation. From angry soldiers complaining about bread-and-butter issues such as jobs and housing to African American veterans challenging racial barriers, I found a variety of perspectives that I had not set out find but that told me volumes about the immediate postwar years and what many vets were thinking. Clearly, this veteran dissent, a prominent part of discussions of the returning veteran, was an aspect of the

INTRODUCTION

3

World War II generation that is largely absent from current understandings of the Greatest Generation. Faced with the problem of trying to uncover the diversity of veterans’ experiences following World War II, I looked to draw on different types of evidence to find out where the disgruntled, critical veteran had come from and why he had largely disappeared from modern views of the Greatest Generation. In order to understand the feelings of World War II soldiers and their opinions during the war years, I examined data on soldiers’ views in The American Soldier surveys conducted by government sociologists during the war. A massive undertaking, the surveys were given to fighting men between 1943 and 1945 and used to measure soldiers’ opinions on a host of issues, from military procedure to foreign policy concerns to the role of the veteran in postwar America. Soldiers were also encouraged to add ideas or concerns to their responses in the open-ended “Free Comment” sections at the end of each survey. The data from the surveys was compiled into a four-volume study, The American Soldier, but the government saved the free comment responses as well. It was in these free comment responses that many soldiers voiced concern about their dehumanization in the military, the corruption of home front politicians and labor leaders, the changing of gender norms at home and in the armed forces, and the lack of opportunity for veterans in postwar America. In response to these issues, some disgruntled soldiers supported changes to home front society, while others simply wanted to be left out of postwar plans being designed by civilians.4 Surprised by the prevalence of these themes, I turned to the immediate postwar years to see if veterans retained these feelings upon their return, or if most of these negative sentiments disappeared as soon as soldiers received their discharges from the armed forces. Were these just the complaints of a small group of dissatisfied soldiers? I learned that in the immediate postwar years the voices of disenchanted and critical veterans were found throughout the major media, as veterans offered their own critiques of the war aims of the United States, the shape of American society, and the role of the veteran in building the postwar nation. Far from being a unifying force, World War II veterans were a diverse group of sixteen million individuals with a myriad of understandings of “their values of personal responsibility, duty, honor, and faith” that many times clashed with civilian prescriptions for veterans following the war and also with our current notions of this generation.5 If veterans were providing a variety of views and, in many cases, radical critiques of American politics and society, the question then became

4

SETTLING DOWN

what happened to these veterans’ voices? Further research showed that the disenchanted veteran, a prevalent image in the immediate postwar years, disappeared almost without a trace from American historical memory. Newer histories of the cold war era may provide one explanation. Scholars have increasingly linked the stifling of opinion on social and political issues to the gradual creation of a national consensus of ideas in the 1950s. Anti-Communism and a distrust of social and political radicalism, belief in the government and its ability to solve problems, increased emphasis on traditional conceptions of gender familial roles, and social and political conformity have all been proposed by scholars as norms in the cold war consensus. World War II and the sacrifices of the soldiers who fought it also became an important component of the consensus understanding of the need to stand up to postwar political tyranny at home and internationally. The solidification of the consensus meant the end to the ready acceptance of the dissenting opinions expressed by many of the nation’s fighting men and women and led to the homogenization of the popular understanding of the World War II veteran into an image that was more in line with the political and social climate of the 1950s.6 Veterans were increasingly limited in the types of critical opinions they could offer after their return, but it would be wrong to view them as completely separate from the creation of the cold war consensus or victims of some monolithic mind-set. Conceptions of consensus have been problematized by historians, but the term consensus can still retain analytical capabilities as long as it is understood to be a set of ideas or goals that were perceived by a majority of Americans but did not necessarily reflect reality for all of its citizens.7 Veterans, including many disenchanted servicemen, agreed with various aspects of the growing consensus, and they did not provide a unified opposition to consensus norms. In particular, male veterans often supported postwar attempts to limit competition from women in employment through the reassertion of traditional gender roles after the war.8 Further, many veterans were ambivalent about consensus notions that labeled them as heroes for their service in World War II. Typically veterans stressed that they did not want to be given preferential treatment or a heightened social status in postwar America due to their military experience. But in order to achieve their goals after the war, vets increasingly took their place as the nation’s “heroes” in the consensus culture. Veterans’ acceptance of different aspects of the consensus was often contested and gradual, but dissenting veterans’

INTRODUCTION

5

views were later subsumed in a cold war consensus that veterans in part helped to construct. How great was the challenge presented by returning veterans to the consensus culture that was developing? In my first chapter, I examine the “free comment” responses to the surveys of The American Soldier and responses from disgruntled veterans in the periodical literature of the immediate postwar era. Soldiers expressed the desire both to bring changes to the postwar nation and to be “left alone” after reentering civilian life. These two sentiments challenged aspects of home front postwar prescriptions for the veteran and growing consensus norms. Some observers on the home front worried that veterans presented a potential criminal or Fascist threat to postwar security, while most counseled civilians to give vets a period in which they could slowly “settle down.” But the home front also constructed a postwar role for its fighting men that entailed starting families quickly, providing leadership to their communities, and being the bedrock of stability the nation needed after the hostilities ended. Veterans attempted to work through many of their misgivings upon their return and were given a period of reacclimation by the civilian populace. Still, even as returning servicemen supported growing consensus notions surrounding the family, a large number of veterans remained skeptical of the heroization of their war service or the calls for postwar political conformity. After their period of reacclimation ended, however, the dissenting voices of veterans were increasingly absent in a culture of consensus. The centrality of ex-soldiers in the definition of postwar American society makes it crucial to analyze different facets of the experience of World War II veterans to understand the development and contested nature of cold war conformity immediately following the war. I provide different case studies to show the importance of the veteran to American society in the early cold war, to highlight the critiques that many vets were offering that challenged civilians’ notions after the war, and to reveal how vets both challenged and reinforced the developing consensus culture into the 1950s. Instead of focusing on just the American Soldier surveys or advice literature for vets, I explore how the contested return of veterans influenced the development of postwar politics, society, and culture at the beginning of the cold war. In order to understand the important role veterans played in postwar politics, my second chapter analyzes the crucial impact of candidates’ war service to John F. Kennedy’s 1946 race for congress. Kennedy appeared to be the poster boy for what the new veteran candidate could be in the

6

SETTLING DOWN

postwar era. Young, handsome, well educated, and with a much-publicized war record, Kennedy looked like the type of veteran leader many on the home front hoped would guide the nation in the postwar era. But like many vets, Kennedy expressed ambivalence about his future. The young veteran vacillated between enthusiastically pushing his political ideas and having a real distaste for the exploitation of his war record for votes. Underlying Kennedy’s candidacy was the dilemma for many veterans of wanting to use the lessons learned in fighting World War II in American politics but having to rely on their heightened social status as veterans to obtain positions of influence. Veteran politicians often had to accept consensus understandings of the war and military service in order to bring their own vision of the postwar world to the political scene. Even one of the most famous politicians to come out of the war years felt the tension between civilian prescriptions for vets and his desire for change. Veterans and the images associated with them were not just important in the politics of the immediate postwar years. The war and veterans’ return had a tremendous influence on the culture of the United States, as Americans expressed anxiety about the nation’s direction after the war. In order to understand the cultural impact of the veterans’ return, I describe the image of the veteran and his cultural importance found in the classic film noir movies of the late 1940s and how film noir was part of the home front effort to encourage returning soldiers to continue to defend American society in the postwar years. Film noir frequently featured portrayals of disgruntled veterans and these movies are one of the few examples of widely examined evidence that commentators have used to show the presence of postwar discord in American society. Film noir’s portrayals of antiheroes attempting to make sense of a chaotic, dangerous landscape highlight feelings of anxiety and uncertainty after the war. Critics have also shown the presence of strong left-wing critiques of postwar America in these films, largely due to the number of prominent radicals among Hollywood’s writers and directors at the time. A closer look at the film noirs featuring disgruntled veterans, however, shows vets defending polite society from postwar crime and decay rather than succumbing to the degrading effects of America’s ills. Film noir often portrayed the redemption of the wayward veteran and, in this way, was part of the postwar consensus project of helping veterans to “settle down.” Though their characters often lived at the dark edges of American life, film noir veterans routinely sought responsibility in the postwar consensus culture rather than shunning it. Film noir may have featured the bleakest portrayals of American society in postwar popular culture, but these films’

INTRODUCTION

7

encouragement of the eventual assimilation of the disgruntled veteran demonstrates the influence of consensus culture norms even in the early years of the cold war. In opposition to the individualistic, disenchanted vet found in film noir, an important segment of returning veterans expressed the desire to engage in progressive political reform, and this sentiment found a representative organization in the American Veterans Committee (AVC). In Chapter 4, I show how the AVC attempted to give progressive veterans a voice in national affairs and how the group rose to prominence quickly in the early postwar era. Declaring themselves to be “Citizens first, veterans second,” the AVC resisted attempts at creating a privileged class of veterans in the United States and was the best group that represented progressive veterans’ hopes to change postwar America. Though the organization had many prominent members and regularly gave important testimony on a variety of veterans’ and social issues, as the cold war consensus began to develop, the group’s Communist members became an increasing burden in the face of red-bating attacks from the AVC’s opponents. After an internal power struggle between liberals and radicals for control of the organization, it expelled its far left wing, and subsequently lost much of its national standing and membership. With its weakening, progressive veterans lost the most-effective national forum for their ideas and their challenge to prevailing political norms, demonstrating that even World War II’s heroes were not immune from the pressures of cold war conformity. Though the consensus culture helped to define America in the 1950s, it still was limited in its ability to stifle all of America’s challengers. My final chapter looks at the activism of African American veterans and how their participation in civil rights struggles in postwar America calls into question how completely the cold war consensus can be said to have silenced all veterans’ dissenting opinions. Unlike the reception from the American community at large that was asking vets to “settle down,” the African American community in the United States urged its fighting men to challenge racial norms in the country and to work for reforms. Black veterans were the recipients of violent abuse by racist whites, just as they had been after World War I, but aided by supportive leaders in the African American community, they continued to push for reform. Governmental promises of action on racial issues were unable to fundamentally alter the restrictive racial system in America, particularly in the South, and black veterans made up a core constituency of the growing civil rights movement of the 1950s. They continued to challenge racial prejudice, even as

8

SETTLING DOWN

the forces of cold war consensus called for unity and patience. The case of African American veterans is the most obvious and important example that any understanding of vets and the consensus culture of the 1950s must contend with the limits that consensus had in penetrating all segments of postwar society. Although these case studies attempt to look at returning veterans from social, cultural, and political perspectives, some significant groups of vets are not examined specifically. Though female veterans were an important part of America’s armed forces, my discussion is largely limited to male veterans. Women veterans had their advocates, and their critiques often matched their male peers, but the unique experience of female veterans was too large a topic to adequately address here.9 Also, there is no specific focus here on either physically or mentally disabled veterans. These two groups of veterans made up a large part of the home front literature surrounding soldiers’ sacrifices and were a motivating force behind the creation of rehabilitation efforts in the postwar era. But just as with female veterans, a thorough understanding of the readjustment of disabled veterans requires more space than this study allows. Instead, the focus here is on the nondisabled male soldier, who represented the predominant image of the veteran on the home front and into the postwar era. To be clear, this book does not set out to prove that World War II veterans were not the “Greatest Generation.” Far from it. Instead, I hope to provide a fuller portrait of World War II servicemen and the World War II generation’s difficult and contested path to the 1950s and beyond. Further, a more complete picture of the diversity of veterans’ opinions, as opposed to the common image of their homogeneity, may give succeeding generations a more approachable image of their heroes and a better understanding of the myths surrounding World War II vets. Without a full appreciation of the divisions that existed within this group of vets, subsequent generations’ efforts to achieve national goals have flawed examples of the World War II generation to emulate, and in doing so, postwar generations will always fall short of greatness by not being able to create a mythic sentiment of national unity. When political figures needed to motivate Americans during the cold war, they often used the World War II veterans, exemplars of a supposed quiet patriotism in a time of crisis, as the symbols that defined American commitment to freedom and democracy. Accordingly, the presence of dissent, an important part of the postwar years, was erased in favor of a more usable past of conformity.

INTRODUCTION

9

Although America’s experience in Vietnam called into question the veracity of these images, the cultural importance of the World War II generation still survives and resonates with Americans and their need to find examples of unity in times of strife. In opposition to this simplistic portrait of World War II veterans, this study demonstrates that vets were diverse in their opinions, and fiercely debated the meaning of the war, the nature of their sacrifice, the development of the cold war nation, and the trajectory of their own lives. In providing a more complete understanding of the immediate postwar era, the achievements of World War II veterans in the face of adversity, and the tremendous energy vets placed in contesting a variety of issues, this study may actually reinforce the conclusion that this was the Greatest Generation, but it also will hopefully give Americans pause when they are confronted with images of easy unity and lack of dissent that supposedly typified these heroes who helped define the postwar nation.

This page intentionally left blank

1

“The Reception Committee” Soldiers, Citizens, and the Veteran’s Return

I would like to know what causes the cold attitude toward the soldiers on the part of many civilians. I was surprised at the lack of interest the civilians show in the war. They have developed a selfish attitude and seem to care only for themselves. They are all making money and don’t seem to know there is a war going on. Also many of them look like they’re in good health. They seem to take attitudes that we’re “suckers” for being in while they are the “smart guys” for staying out. It’s a rotten situation and darned unfair to guys who are doing their part.1

his was the response from an American soldier from World War II when asked if he had anything else to add to a government survey of servicemen’s opinions. Expressing a theme found in the views of many of his comrades, the soldier showed hostility to a home front populace that he saw as uncaring, materialistic, and at odds with soldiers’ understanding of the war effort. This gap only presented further problems with the war’s conclusion. Veterans of the war had been returning in substantial numbers beginning in 1944 and increasingly government officials and the public-at-large recognized that the successful integration of large numbers of military personnel into civilian life presented an enormous challenge for postwar America. Although the home front began to grapple with what some termed “The Veteran Problem,” a large segment of American servicemen also expressed their own misgivings about the shape of the postwar world and specifically their place within it. Veterans and nonveterans did share many of the same hopes and dreams for the

T

Developed by the War Advertising Council, this ad sought to help civilians understand the problems of returning veterans and to avoid insensitive reactions to soldiers’ wartime experiences.

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

13

postwar era, but the differences in their respective wartime experiences and perspectives also fostered disagreements between many former soldiers and civilians about the role of the veteran in American society. Given some of the difficulties that veterans of World War I experienced upon their return from overseas, some experts on the American home front believed that it was prudent for Americans to begin preparing for soldiers’ return to prevent the creation of another Lost Generation. In the final years of the war and into the postwar era, social scientists, concerned citizens, and federal and state offices published a wide variety of advice literature aimed at easing the soldier’s transition to civilian life. Advertisers and advice columns also suggested methods of anticipating veterans’ needs and urged civilians to understand soldiers’ perspectives upon their return. Writers suggested that soldiers be given a period of readjustment to civilian life to prevent any threat that these “heroes” might pose to social stability if their reacclimation did not fare well. Beyond trying to accommodate the new needs of America’s fighting men, civilians were also expecting male soldiers to fulfill certain expectations upon their return home. The civilian advice literature and mainstream media were constructing a portrait of soldiers’ wartime experiences and a particular role for the veteran in the postwar era. Though veterans agreed with some of these home front prescriptions, veterans had begun to offer criticisms of the military, home front, and American society. A large number of soldiers held views that were at odds with prevailing notions on the home front. Immediately after the war, the home front allowed veterans to air these dissenting critiques of society and the war effort as part of the process of veteran reacclimation. However, as America entered the 1950s, the challenge of these veterans’ views were gradually silenced or altered by a growing cold war consensus culture. The need for the nation to confront the challenges of the postwar era limited the ability of veterans to present their views to the American public. The protests of veterans, so powerful in the early postwar years, were ignored by civilians or withdrawn by veterans who began to accept their role within a consensus that many servicemen had a hand in creating. Understandably, the main image of the war on the home front was one of a noble conflict against the spread of Fascism. Government efforts at propaganda were successful as mainstream American media were filled with images of heroic soldiers battling incredible odds in the struggle for victory. Magazines often contained advertisements from companies that attempted to prove their patriotism by supporting the war effort. A typical example of this type of ad was a 1945 piece from Shell Oil. The ad

14

SETTLING DOWN

showed five Government Issues (GIs) riding atop engines into a flaming pit. Its caption read, “Rode the Six Hundred,” a play on Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” The ad went on to describe how Shell Oil had been the chief lubricant at a factory that produced six hundred different models of wartime engines. Describing the rather odd picture, the ad said, “for on these sturdy engines our fighting men on a dozen fronts ride roughshod ‘into the mouth of hell’ . . . and out again—victorious.” 2 The ad encapsulated many of the themes that surrounded the home front understanding of the war: brave soldiers challenging death in order to fight for American freedom. But even as heroic images of soldiers dominated home front media, civilians worried about what shape the postwar world would take and what the postwar role of the veteran would be. In early 1945, the research bureau of the Office of War Information conducted a survey of civilian attitudes toward veterans and found both enthusiasm and caution. Although civilians strongly acknowledged a “debt” to the country’s soldiers and believed solutions to any adjustment problems were the responsibility of the entire nation, the researchers found “the sense of indebtedness is pitted against anxiety about competition and demands of veterans.” Civilians felt that they had to “honor the veterans in special ways” and “recompense their personal and economic sacrifices,” but stressed the need to “avoid treating [vets] like a special group” or a “class apart.” “Handouts” and “gimmies” to veterans had to be limited, and Americans should “remember that civilians have their rights, too.” This tension between wanting to honor soldiers’ achievements and fearing the creation of an elevated veteran class was at the heart of the complex problem of the veteran’s return.3 During the war, a body of advice literature for soldiers and civilians began to be developed to deal with some of the anxiety about the return of soldiers. Works such as When Johnny Comes Marching Home and You’re Out of the Service Now not only offered solutions to problems veterans would face after the conclusion of their military service, but also provided a snapshot of the worries many civilians felt about the soldiers’ return. In these works, the authors identified civilian attitudes of both adoration and fear of returning veterans. Conquering heroes were welcomed home but by a home front populace that was unsure of what lay ahead for the nation. Although this advice literature stressed the need for understanding and a period of readjustment for veterans, it also contained underlying themes that stressed a quick return to normalcy as the nation needed its veterans to help construct a secure postwar America. In

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

15

this way, literature on the home front reinforced notions of the returning soldier as both a threat and a hero—images that many veterans rejected. The misunderstanding of veterans that these civilian-constructed images created deepened many soldiers’ beliefs that they would have difficulty upon their return stateside. Written with both civilian and veteran audiences in mind, the advice literature of civilian authors stressed the difficulties that soldiers would face upon their return home. Many of the writers were veterans from World War I and drew upon past American wars for examples of what might happen after World War II. Not all began with predictions of postwar decline, but most believed that immediate planning for returning veterans was imperative to prevent divisions between soldiers and civilians. In The Veteran Comes Back, World War I vet William Waller began with the biblical story of Uriah the Hittite, a loyal soldier who was betrayed by his commander, King David. After this dramatic example of a soldier’s betrayal, Waller showed the history of America’s inadequacy in treating its returning servicemen and called veterans “our greatest social problem.”4 Another World War I veteran in Good-By to GI counseled veterans not to judge civilians too harshly and warned that the adulation of civilians for soldiers would surely decline.5 In When Johnny Comes Marching Home, Dixon Wecter also wrote that after a period of adulation, “the serviceman . . . begins to detect a chill in the social air and the echo of closing doors.”6 For these authors, the possibility of a chasm developing between soldiers and civilians had many precedents in American history and presented a real danger for the future of the United States if left unexamined by the nation. Chief among concerns about returning servicemen was the employment situation for veterans upon entering civilian life. After experiencing the most severe and prolonged economic depression in the nation’s history before the war, the topic of employment was an understandable concern of both veterans and the home front populace, who had watched the economy boom and unemployment rates plummet during soldiers’ absence. In When Johnny Comes Marching Home, the author described the difficulty that veterans might have obtaining employment and the divisions between civilians and servicemen: “In search of a job, the soldier runs into employers fearful of expansion in these uncertain times, the closed shop, the competition of war workers also freshly demobilized, and ill will created by the parasitism of a few veterans convinced that the world owes every soldier a living. The employment seeker begins to increasingly hear a word, three hundred years old, for loafing on the

16

SETTLING DOWN

job—‘soldiering’. . . .Failure of civil employment to reabsorb the returned soldier thus opens a rift, like those more dangerous cleavages between economic groups and races that frequently appear under post-war tension.”7 By locating the historical tension between returning vets and civilians, Wecter and other authors warned of the problems that lay ahead if veterans were not able to obtain opportunities for employment. Economic difficulties and the possibility of a divide between civilian and veteran led authors to predict dire circumstances for America if it did not wake to the problem of the rapid influx of servicemen. Much of the worry focused around veterans centered on their supposed tendency to be antisocial even after their return from the service. The government encouraged soldiers to draw upon feelings of protection for one’s family and country in order to be effective in combat. Men were pushed to let out their violent tendencies and channel them into the war effort, but these feelings would not be as useful in the postwar era. In Soldier to Civilian, psychologist George Pratt explained that veterans would immediately have to learn to control the aggressive behavior that had served them well in the military. Servicemen would have to realize that “it is far easier to unleash aggression than it is to retame it. Some returned servicemen are going to fail to restrain their aggressiveness once they leave the army and will get into trouble with civilian authorities.”8 The home front was going to have to deal with the fallout from the aggressive nature that their soldier-protectors had used to safeguard America. With this concern about soldier aggressiveness, most of the authors dealt with the widespread belief on the home front that the nation’s veterans were likely to turn to crime if they felt unsatisfied with civilian life. The Veteran Comes Back cites vets’ battle fatigue and physical disabilities, their loss of mental “discipline,” and restlessness as reasons that historically had led returning soldiers to criminal behavior.9 Waller stated that he did not know exactly how many veterans would turn to crime, but he did provide a harrowing description of a possible future: The veteran, so justly entitled to move us to pity or to shame, can also put us in fear. Destitute he may be, friendless, without political guile, unskilled in the arts of peace; but weak he is not. That makes him a different kind of problem. That hand that does know how to earn its owner’s knows how to take your bread, knows very well how to kill you, if need be, in the process. That eye that has looked at death will not quail at the sight of a policeman. Unless and until he can be renaturalized into his native land, the veteran is a threat to society.10

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

17

Other authors were not as alarmist as Waller and took great pains to defend soldiers from the notion that they were “beasts” or killers, but the civilian fear of a postwar veteran crime wave was obviously acute and was dividing many soldiers from the home front.11 Beyond fears of veteran criminality, the advice literature devoted even more space to alerting the public to the susceptibility of veterans to extremist political groups. Authors used the specter of domestic Fascism to convince readers of the seriousness of the veteran problem and the potential threat that these men posed. Quoting the editors of The New Republic, Wecter warned readers in his introduction that “powerful reactionary forces, semi-Fascist and Fascist groups, are at work today, preparing to utilize the bitterness and resentment of the demobilized soldiers.”12 William Waller was also grave when he talked about the rise of the Nazis as a result of disgruntled German veterans from World War I. He stated that if the veteran returned to an unstable economic situation, the same rise of Fascism that started in Germany could appear in the United States: Let us suppose that some of the veterans must go hungry, must beg on the streets, must sell their Purple Hearts and other medals, must wear their army uniform until it dissolves in rags, must walk the streets in wind and rain and snow to look for work and to be told there is no work by sleek civilians who have obviously done well for themselves during the war and collected a great deal of money. . . . If then there comes a suitable demagogue who tells them they have been suckers and talks against talk with overpowering eloquence and he leads these sullen soldiers in a fascist crusade, may not our democratic structure which even now totters at length collapse? Will the veterans of World War II turn into Storm Troopers who will destroy democracy?13

Fascism was not the only threat to postwar peace. Waller, as well as the authors of Back to Life and Good-By to G.I., worried about the Ku Klux Klan’s efforts to recruit disaffected veterans into their ranks. These authors were concerned about what the postwar era would hold for the returning servicemen and if the United States would heed calls for action to diffuse any threat posed by the veteran populace. Again, this kind of imagery—the linkage of returning veterans with the Fascists that they were fighting—led many soldiers to question what type of reception they could expect on the home front. Despite these warnings of impending veteran dissent, authors were generally positive about the country’s future if the “veteran problem”

18

SETTLING DOWN

could be solved. For most authors, the question was one of instructing soldiers in civilian skills that they needed in order to integrate into American society. One author stated, “The veteran needs retooling. It is retooling for effective civilian living just as he was previously retooled for effective military service.”14 Another author wrote that goals of veteran rehabilitation should include “making him into a civilian once more” and “to help encourage him to overcome attitudes of bitterness and antagonism, and to establish a normal and rewarding relation with family, church, and community.”15 After setting up the possible threat that veterans posed to postwar order, these authors were further dividing soldiers and civilians into different camps by suggesting the need to retrain veterans to conform to societal norms of civilians. Soldiers’ experiences that were deemed inappropriate or antisocial needed to be eliminated in order to allow for a more harmonious reacclimation into civilian society. These men were heroes and protectors, but upon their return home they required guides as to their proper role. Importantly, many of these studies urged civilians and veterans to allow for a period of adjustment before a veteran could pick up where he had left off. The Road Back urged veterans not to “conform to what your family expects of you, judging you by what you were before.” Instead, soldiers were told, “It’s up to you to know yourself and the changes in you, and to set your new standards of value.”16 This period of questioning would allow servicemen the time to integrate back into civilian life at their own pace and prevent any unwanted social problems that could occur with a rushed return. In Soldier to Civilian, Pratt wrote,“all returned soldiers pass through a period of disillusionment as an inescapable part of their problem of civilian adjustment.” Suggestions to make the switch to civilian life included joining veterans’ organizations like the American Legion in order to retain a sense of camaraderie. Although Pratt warned of the danger of some veterans who might not make the switch to civilian life, after one or two months he felt that the majority “become full-fledged civilians again, and their need to perpetuate their former military existence grows less desperate.”17 By giving veterans some time and space to make their own transition, the potential threat of the returning veteran could be diffused, and soldiers could be regarded simply as the heroes they had proven themselves to be on the battlefield. Some advertisers also pushed the notion of giving the veteran a period of readjustment. One of the more interesting advertisements was entitled “The Reception Committee (know anybody here?),” created by the War

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

19

Advertising Council to help with the soldiers’ return. The ad portrayed six types of civilian greeters with which servicemen had to contend and, in many ways, did an effective job of dramatizing the problems that veterans felt they faced in their return to civilian life. The first was labeled simply “The Greeter” and pictured a laughing man with an outstretched hand and a “Welcome heroes” button on his lapel. The ad stated that although these types said “Nothing’s too Good for Our Boys,” in reality “That’s what he gives them. . . . Nothing.” Obviously, the advertisers were trying to show that they knew the types of troubles veterans were going to have to face and wanted to alert the public. After disparaging portraits of the self-serving “Patriot” (“Makes [soldiers] wonder whether we had the right people at the front lines”) and the ghoulish “Bloodhound” (“The War’s just one big adventure to him”), the ad introduced readers to “The Rock.” The picture showed an elderly man, looking grim. The caption read: “War hasn’t affected him. Can’t understand why discharged veterans are allowed 90 days to relax before going back to their old jobs. Can’t understand why they should need time to get over the War. He doesn’t. Combat Officers would love to have this type in their care for a while.” With “The Rock,” this ad tried to show that not all civilians believed that soldiers would expect an easy return from the war. In essence, the ad suggested that soldiers’ experiences in the war gave them more authority to recommend what type of behavior should be the norm upon a veteran’s return. In the end, the ad hinted that perhaps military personnel should have a crack at this type in order to teach him the true meaning of the war effort and to understand what soldiers went through. “The Reception Committee” seemed to defer to the will and understanding of soldiers. The last two representations of the ad featured women. “The Clutch” pictured an older woman with a veil, looking distraught. The caption read “Always leaping to help a disabled veteran over a pebble and practically blubbers while doing it. Succeeds in making him feel as if he’s ruined for any life. Or career.” This image sought to encourage readers not to try to “baby” veterans too much, using the image of the “blubbering” mother who emasculated the wounded soldier through her hysterics. The other negative images of “The Reception Committee” were all insensitive men, but “The Clutch” dramatized the need for soldiers to be respected as capable men and not objects of pity. The need for compassion, although necessary, should not be a smothering, feminine pampering that could be damaging to vets’ masculine identities.

20

SETTLING DOWN

The last and only positive image in the ad was the “Blue Ribbon Citizen,” pictured in the ad as a young, attractive woman with a bright smile. She, for the advertisers, represented the ideal attitude that the American citizen should have: “Like all good people, she asks no questions, weeps no tears, doesn’t stare at disabilities. To her, a returned veteran is an abler, more aggressive and resourceful citizen than the boy who went away. She’s proud of him, proud to know him. Anxious to be of real help to him, she’s the kind of person we should all be.” The image of an attractive, sensitive (but not too sensitive) woman may have appealed to many soldiers as the ideal member of a reception committee. The “Blue Ribbon Citizen” seemed to fulfill many of the soldiers’ wishes: a female companion who is eager to work with the veteran in his reacclimation to the home front. In this piece, advertisers appeared willing to aid in soldiers’ readjustment and also to defer to their needs in veterans’ efforts to cope with civilian life.18 The notion of giving soldiers a period of readjustment was a popular one on the home front, but it was also attached to expectations that the veteran needed to return to fulfill certain obligations in postwar America. The image of the heroic fighting man who protected the United States during war fed into ideas about returning veterans who were encouraged to create a postwar economic and social stability. The concept of “settling down” played an important part in most of the advice literature. In The Veteran and His Future Job, the returning serviceman was said to be thinking of two things: “locating a good steady job, and marrying that girl he had been waiting to for so long and setting up a home of his own.”19 These two themes, employment and starting a family, were stressed in most of the discussions of the soldier’s return to civilian life. The home front’s need to secure veterans’ places as the economic and social heads of America’s families created a cultural climate that encouraged women to leave full-time employment or led to their systematic removal from positions by employers with little opposition from unions or government officials. Veterans’ assumptions of their gendered roles as breadwinners and the heads of families was integral to notions of stability found in the popular press, advice literature, advertisements, and government publications of the late 1940s. 20 Beyond providing economic support, the home front was also asking its veterans to take positions of leadership in the postwar era and help the nation succeed in an uncertain future. Notions of the veteran’s masculine duty permeate these calls for servicemen to move from protectors of the free world to protectors of their families, and veterans were challenged to

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

21

accomplish the same type of successes in civilian life that they had achieved on the battlefield.21 As stated in The Veteran and His Future Job, “If the nation prospers, [the veteran] will prosper; but he will have to do his part in the fight for peace-time security just as he did in war.”22 This fight for security necessitated soldiers’ adoption of a masculine role in American society that would allow for social and economic stability. These sentiments were also found in Good-By to GI when the author stated, “It’s up to you as a civilian, an American citizen, to pitch in and help make America great. . . . It’s up to you to say how far we’ll go.”23 In these works, veterans and their conversion from servicemen to civilians were portrayed as essential to the future of America. Veterans were encouraged to shed the antisocial traits essential to their success as masculine protectors in war and instead focus their energy on their new roles as the leaders of their homes and communities. It was this emphasis on stability and communal responsibility that would be an important factor in the development of a cold war consensus culture as America moved into the 1950s. Unfortunately for experts on the home front, many veterans did not share the same understanding of the war, the veterans’ role upon their return, or the shape of American society in the postwar era. Just as the home front was attempting to comprehend what America would be like following the war, so too were soldiers looking to the postwar era with a sense of uncertainty. Like their families and fellow citizens back on the home front, the war created certain expectations in the minds of many veterans, both for themselves and American society. Male veterans’ understanding of the role of the returning soldier in postwar America was dramatically shaped by their military service, and although veterans were in agreement with some of the postwar prescriptions being formulated on the home front, many still retained a critical take on American society that was at odds with notions of consensus that were beginning to take shape in the immediate postwar era. Given the large number of American soldiers involved in World War II, accurately gauging the opinions of such a diverse group of men proves to be a daunting task. However, the need to understand the opinions of the nation’s soldiers was not lost on the U.S. government during wartime. It commissioned the creation of a large series of soldier surveys in order to better understand the minds of the nation’s fighting men, to improve conditions and operations in the army, and, toward the conclusion of the war, to aid the soldier in his readjustment to civilian life. Headed by Samuel A. Stouffer and a team of other social scientists under the Research

22

SETTLING DOWN

Branch of the Information and Education Division of the War Department, surveys of servicemen were conducted between 1942 and 1945 in different theaters of operation. The result was a four-volume study entitled simply, The American Soldier, which contained data on different questions about soldiers’ attitudes on army life, combat, the home front, officers, allied and enemy soldiers, and a host of other topics. In the introductory essay to volume I, Stouffer correctly identified one of his study’s audiences as historians. In particular, he cited “the newer generation of historians, who are as much interested in institutions and the rank and file comprising [the surveys] as they are in the big personalities and big dramatic events” as scholars who could make good use of the information gathered by the Research Branch.24 Although the collected data from the surveys provided a powerful portrait of men in uniform, it is not one of selfless heroes, quietly accepting their fate and saving America from the forces of Fascism. Stouffer commented in his introduction that “from some points of view, the attitudes of soldiers, especially toward many of the traditional practices of Army life, do not make a pretty historical picture.”25 Soldiers were often unhappy with the army, the war, officers, and civilians, and they were not afraid to express their dissatisfaction. The raw data and tables of the soldiers’ surveys compiled in the volumes tell a dramatic story of the individual GI, but the surveys also provide for a more intimate glimpse into soldiers’ lives. At the end of each survey, the respondents were given the opportunity to express any thoughts they felt were not encompassed by the survey’s questions. These “free comment” sections afforded the soldier the ability to relate his opinions on a variety of subjects without fear of rebuke or the constrictions of the directed questions of the survey.26 Many took advantage of this opportunity. In a large cross-section study in 1945, nine out of the ten responses were critical of the army, which the surveyors viewed as typical of men thrown together under stressful circumstances and not used to military authority.27 In the free comment sections of the surveys, complaints typically focused on officers, furloughs, and assignments. In these responses, soldiers’ educational level, race, ethnicity, civilian profession, military rank, and combat status all revealed the diversity of the American soldier at this time. But even with this variety, general patterns in the responses emerged, highlighting which issues were particularly important to servicemen and offering a glimpse into a period of great personal transition for many of the respondents. The free comment responses provide a unique opportunity to hear the voices of American

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

23

soldiers speaking about their plans for the postwar era and their apprehension about the return to civilian life.28 In different surveys given to men immediately upon their release from active duty, their understandable response was generally one of excitement or relief. When these men were asked “How it feels to get back to the U.S.,” the typical responses were “swell,” “It’s a dream come true,” and “There are no words in the dictionary to describe this feeling.”29 Clearly, most men were anxious to return to the United States following their overseas tour of duty and to begin the process of rejoining civilian life. In free comment responses to other surveys, soldiers’ stated goals for the postwar era stressed the importance of returning to their lives as they existed before the war or to improve on the old lives they had left behind. In survey after survey, servicemen emphasized the necessity of regaining civilian employment and the centrality of family life to their reacclimation. A selection of typical responses on this theme: After I leave the Army I want to get settled in a permanent job or business and make plans for life. I want to buy a home and start raising a family and really get established in life.30 Once I leave the army I will endeavor to take up a mode of living as nearly resembling the one I left as possible. Since I have been married while in the army I look forward to renting a small house, buying furniture, and raising a family.31 Return home to my wife and child and live again.32 I want to marry the girl I am engaged to and live a hundred years of happiness and peace.33 Settle down, get a good job, get married, and build a home, and live happily ever after.34 My only desire is to be able to go home as soon as possible after the war ends. In our duty to our country we haven’t failed her—but after it is all ended, our duty to our wives and children must be our first thought. My one plan is to pick up where I left off and establish a home for my family.35

Just as civilians on the home front were encouraging veterans to come home and take control of their households, time and again soldiers’ primary goal was to assert their role as household breadwinner and to “settle

24

SETTLING DOWN

down” by raising a family. This desire to return to what was referred to as a “normal life” in many of the free comments fit nicely into home front conceptions of the veterans’ role in the postwar era. The desire to settle down, to become the primary breadwinner in the family, and to be the patriarchal head of a family is not surprising given that many soldiers expressed a sense of uncertainty about gender roles in American society with women’s participation in the war effort. As women entered into occupations that had previously been limited to men, such as the military or industrial work, servicemen were wary of these alterations and expressed hostility to changes in the gendered work responsibilities that they were in no position to influence. The sense of anger and helplessness comes through when examining the open-ended responses to a survey that asked men to comment on the Women’s Army Corps (WAC), which placed women in official military positions for the first time in the history of American warfare. Although some soldiers did acknowledge that the WACs did a service to their country (“They are doing a damn good job I think”), the majority responded negatively to women serving in the military.36 Those soldiers who disliked the WAC presence on army bases found many reasons to chastise the army for bringing women into what had previously been an all-male institution. Soldiers commented that limited servicemen could perform all the duties that WACs performed and that if the army effectively utilized its existing manpower, women need never serve in a military capacity. Also, supposed limitations based on gendered stereotypes (“a group of women will not cooperate with each other”) led some men to criticize the WAC. Further, many servicemen commented that women should be in a defense plant instead of the military if they wanted to support the war effort. Combining notions of women’s domesticity with a concern for the war effort, one soldier wrote that “a womans [sic] place is in the home or a defense plant.” More typically, however, soldiers were passionately concerned about the erosion of traditional gender norms and also the decline in morality, particularly sexual morality, because of women’s military service. Servicemen wrote of how the WAC was turning the world upside down and taking women away from their real patriotic duty during the war, namely raising a family and awaiting the return of male soldiers. Examples of this type of criticism: “To be truly patriotic, I believe that a girl should stay at home, contribute her best talents to the war effort, and prepare to help the returning soldier build a new and greater society.” Other comments

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

25

along these lines include, “Close social life away from all friends has a tendency to harden and callous a person—I believe a women’s place in the world should be in the following order—1—Be Feminine.—2—Be of good disposition.—3—Care for her family.—4—Keep her home life alive.—5—I want my wife to be the same way she was when I left, the day I come back.—6. #1–#5 are enough.” The notion that women would somehow be changed in a negative fashion by their military service was a prevalent theme in the soldiers’ responses. Some soldiers wrote explicitly about trouble in the postwar era due to changes in gender responsibilities brought on by the war. The entrance of women into the military signaled to many men that the postwar era might be a period of gender crisis, when the gendered notions and rules that they had believed were inherent in American culture would be called into question or, more ominously, completely changed to the detriment of the returning male soldier. One respondent commented, “It is my opinion that many women enlist in the WACS for other than patriotic reasons and I also believe it will eventually lead to an issue to determine the status between men and women whether or not they should have the same rights and privileges that men enjoy today.” Another commentator saw women as postwar economic competition: “I believe a girls [place] is in the home at all times if possible. If they just have to work, it should be in an office. It may seem I am old in my ideas, but a woman should be left in her place, the home. It will be easier to straighten out the working conditions after the war.” The changes women would undergo were not limited to a discussion of their desire for equal rights or improved economic standing in postwar America. When attacking the WACs, much of the criticism was focused on their supposed lack of morality and licentious sexual behavior. WACs were viewed in many of these responses as not fulfilling a patriotic duty like male soldiers, but were seen as “nothing more than women looking for adventure” or being motivated primarily by “sexual adventures.” Other commentators wrote more directly stating that the WAC was a “traveling hore [sic] house for soldiers” and that the servicewomen were “nothing but legalized whores.” Women stepping out of their prescribed gender roles were demonized as sexual predators who lessened the morality of the nation’s fighting men. One soldier speculated on the effect that WACs would have on postwar families: “I know if I had a wife that passed the W.A.A.C.’s I would divorce her because probably she would be going out with some other soldier, and the normal girl

26

SETTLING DOWN

will do those things and it would only end up in a broken home after the war, and when they come back home they would be an intirely [sic] different person when you left her much to your disappointment.” The immediate association of WACs with sexual immorality caused many soldiers to question the shape of gender norms on the home front following the war. The fact that pro-WAC soldiers spent much of their comment space defending WACs’ reputations (“Their morals are as high as any group of civilians, but they are victims of malicious slander”) attested to the general linking of women’s military service with being aggressively sexual creatures. Even one of their defenders, who dismissed talk of WAC immorality as “hooey,” and who congratulated WACs on becoming “more masculine” due to army life, still referred to women soldiers as “buxom creatures,” characterizing them more by their sexuality or their repression of it than by their performance in the service. The challenge that the WACs presented to servicemen’s masculine identities spurred resentment among male soldiers who viewed alterations in American notions of gender as a topic of immense confusion and concern.37 Fortunately for most male veterans, the home front was already moving in the direction of eliminating the gender crisis that was brewing in postwar America by encouraging or forcing women to abandon their wartime entrance into industrial and military work in favor of preparing for the veterans’ return. Soldiers were expecting the government and American business to accommodate their needs upon their return, as revealed in this open-ended response from The American Soldier surveys: “The government should do something about women workers after the war. There [sic] place is still in the home. When we are finished with our business at present we don’t want to come back and find that the women won’t give up there [sic] jobs to us.”38 These types of attitudes were in line with many American businessmen, governmental officials, and the American public who worked toward easing veterans’ fears by eliminating women from threatening positions. Consequently, the needs of both veterans and the home front worked together to enforce gender prescriptions that normalized men’s position as the social and economic head of the family and attempted to limit women’s activity to the domestic sphere.39 Although soldiers were in agreement with the home front on some conceptions of the veteran’s return, many soldiers still expressed hesitancy about their place within postwar society that went beyond concerns about women war workers and changes in the status of American women. The surveys in The American Soldier reveal a complex relationship between

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

27

soldiers and their view of the home front. Despite its predictions to the contrary, the study found that there was no overwhelming resentment of those on the home front. The soldiers of the front lines as well as the rear echelons gave citizens on the home front praise for working hard during the war years. They did register some complaints about the lack of gratitude shown by civilians, but on the whole soldiers were appreciative of the efforts made to support them while overseas.40 However, when given space in the free comment responses, many soldiers spoke about feelings of alienation from civilian life and viewed civilians as uncaring and ignorant of military hardships. It is difficult to gauge a specific number of soldiers who felt this way. Individual soldiers worried about a variety of issues to varying degrees and, although not always a coherent critique of the home front, the criticism of soldiers about civilians was a consistent theme that carried over into the postwar years. Veterans may have appreciated different aspects of the home front’s support of its soldiers, giving the efforts of loved ones high marks in the survey. But resentment of specific elements or changes in American society was also very apparent in the surveys. Although this theme of dissent found in the veterans’ surveys could be dismissed as part of general complaints about the military, some of the same themes of disenchantment prominently appeared later in the postwar media, showing that these comments reflected feelings shared in part or in whole by many vets. The most common theme of criticism surrounded the soldiers’ belief that the home front was not experiencing the difficulties of warfare and was enjoying the economic boom that accompanied America’s entrance into the conflict. For these soldiers, the home front was characterized by an unpatriotic materialism that was alien to the camaraderie between soldiers in the armed service. The difficulty of war should have brought out a spirit of togetherness in all Americans not just those in uniform. A common complaint voiced by many soldiers was “people in the States don’t know we are fighting a war!”41 Soldiers learned from news outlets and from loved ones in America that many civilians were benefiting from the war while they were laying their lives on the line, causing resentment among the troops. Another disgruntled soldier wrote, “We have been overseas too dam[n]ed long it’s about time we were going back home. They got plenty men back home doing nothing just sitting in th[eir] ass and having a good time while we are getting a rotten deal.”42 These types of sentiments worried home front authorities when they speculated about “the veteran problem” and the gulf that was growing between those who were fighting the war and those for whom they fought.

28

SETTLING DOWN

Perhaps the most popular target for soldiers’ antimaterialistic venom was the industrial war worker who went out on strike. Many survey responses were particularly critical of unions and strikers generally and of union leader John L. Lewis in particular. Responses included: Why doesn’t some one do something about the dam strikes why baby those draft dodgers. . . . Keep a list of their names. When the war is over give a copy to each soldier. I think there are too many people in this country getting rich doing war work—a soldier gets damn poor and often dead. There are entirely to [sic] many strikes going on to day [sic], this affects the morale of the men in the army because they are being disciplined each day and civilians can defy the govt. and do as they please. I think they do not fully realize that if this war is lost, there [sic] right to freedom is lost also. Make them work or fight.43 Another thing I don’t like is the strikes at home. Why not put some of those men over here for a while on Army wages and let us work their jobs. Let them see what will happen to them if they refuse to work on the front lines.44 Why do our leaders have to let John L. Lewis and his henchmen call strikes and thereby slow down production? Is that the kind of politics we will continue to have after the war?45

Given the heightened visibility of their agitation, strikers made good targets for the wrath of frustrated soldiers who were increasingly critical of the home front’s materialism and its commitment to winning the war. Politicians on the home front were also the subjects of many soldiers’ ire in the soldier surveys. The inability of politicians to conduct the war, the inadequacy of the government’s attempts to make the army more efficient, and the failure of elected officials to quell labor and racial unrest at home were all issues for servicemen. One soldier wrote disgustedly of the inadequacy and privilege of elected officials in America: Put the congressmen in the war for 1 week and see how long it lasts. . . . I suggest they act more and talk less. The G.I. Joes get tired of promises. We want to be home with our wives and sweethearts the same as anyone else, so do something about it. It always involves money and the congressmen

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

29

can easy buy their way out. It’s usually the man with money who gets ahead. Through a bunch of politicians in the capitol and in the cities. If you don’t get rid of them you’ll have another war in 5 yrs. I’m glad somebody’s getting a benefit of this killing. And the politicians, and Senators, and Congressmen are doing O.K.46

Other soldiers blamed the government for not allowing civilians the chance to understand the hardships of soldiers and the price of their sacrifice because of the sugar-coated view of the war that was shaped by government censors. Some soldiers suggested that the distribution of soldier-driven papers such as Stars and Stripes back home would help civilians understand the conflict, while others felt that elimination of censorship of men’s letters or toning down war propaganda might help to bring the “real war” home. A response from the surveys echoed this theme of a growing divide based on lack of information: “The people in the U.S. should see the war as it actually is. They should see the battlefield covered with our boys who died so that some men can go out on strike because he doesn’t believe that he’s being well paid. For $50 a month our boys go through living hell—the minute a picture is published showing mutilated bodies people all over the country rise up to complain. We live for days and even weeks under those conditions yet it can’t be shown to the public.”47 For this and other soldiers, the American public needed to be informed about the military experience in greater detail in order to realize the significance of the soldiers’ sacrifice and the immorality of the materialistic attitude that servicemen felt was pervasive on the home front. All of these tensions between soldiers and the home front led to a feeling among many servicemen that they did not receive respect and acknowledgment from the home front that their military service warranted. The alienation of soldiers comes through in several open-ended comments from the surveys: Civilian population as a whole do not have as much respect for a soldier as they should. Therefore there isn’t much else for a soldier to do but get drunk and try to forget it.48 The only comment I have to make is one regarding civillians [sic]. They think that just because a fellow is in the army, he isn’t worth spitting on. I[t] makes me wonder just who the hell we are fighting to protect since most of us would rather be dead than where we are today.49

30

SETTLING DOWN

I feel like a foreigner and are [sic] looked upon one by my fellow Americans.50 Civilian attitudes and reaction to war efforts is doing more to tear down the army then all the training possible can build up. Soldiers often remark when strikes and other acts of sabotage are announced: “So this is what we are fighting for—While those SOB’s are getting rich”—“Why should we undergo these hardships in order that the ‘white collars’ may get rich” the general feeling is that civilians would like for the war to continue so that they could profit financially—in other words, that only a small part of the population is fighting or cooperating in the fight.51 In my opinion G.I. Joe hasn’t had a fair deal upon returning back to the U.S. and probably never will.52

Despite government promises and the passage of the GI Bill, many soldiers were wary of their fellow citizens on the home front and their commitment both to the war and to the future welfare of World War II veterans. Like civilians, soldiers remembered the situation of veterans of World War I, and memories of what many considered the poor treatment of that war’s veterans only heightened soldiers’ concern about their return. Ending one survey, a soldier commented that “the Post-war adjustment period has some fears in us as fear of repetition of 1929–1932—unless more definite foresight planning is made than we hear about now.”53 Many used images of impoverished veterans during the Depression to dramatize the possible economic plight soldiers faced in an uncertain postwar period: “Post-war world is still a matter of pure conjecture to us—what it holds in store for us is contingent upon the actual world we have—This survey is an admirable accomplishment—It shows that the War Dept. shall try not [sic] leave us in a lurch when we doff our uniforms—It’s with a fervent prayer that I say—‘No corner apple vendors after the war’—It’s going to be different after this war and I’d hate to think that we would suffer the same fate as the Bonus Army.”54 On the whole, many men wanted to know what they could expect upon their return. Given their worries about civilian attitudes and the postwar economy, soldiers were looking for straightforward answers and support to allay their fears: For a final thought. I think the Army should enlighten its men and prepare them to look forward to a post war civilian life. Most men, when I ask what their plans are after the war, reply, “I don’t know, guess I’ll bum around

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

31

and see the country.” Well, that happened in 1918–1920. Remember the crime wave?55 Suggest some definite policy be set up in regards to mustering out of men who are responsible job holders and heads of families. All the latest discussion has been on the style of “don’t worry we will take care of you boys”. Having been in this army over two years and the only means of support for two dependents, such ballyhoo is not for my liking. Quite a few of us left fairly good jobs to enter this mess and being over 30 years of age I will need to make one choice and no miss. How about it. . . . Frankly, I have my doubts that things will be better or as good after the war.56

In addition to this sense of apprehension or mistrust of civilians, the discipline and discomfort of military life also affected soldiers’ abilities to conform to home front notions of the veteran’s role in America. Though veterans reinforced ideas of male dominance in the postwar era, many soldiers were critical of other aspects of the masculine image of the returning veteran that was being constructed on the home front. When describing their war experience, soldiers wanted civilians to know their struggles but were also hesitant to embrace the role of hero. Usually, soldiers described military service as a dirty but necessary job: It seemed to me when the going got tough you were very tired and hungry. You wanted to go in and get the job done even if you knew you would get shot. Sort of a don’t give a damn feeling.57 I would like to say I want to go home very much. But we have a job to finish.58 On the whole, I am willing to remain in the army till the job is done and then would like to return to a peaceful life in the good ole’ USA.59

Although not underplaying the sacrifice they made in being part of the military, soldiers nevertheless did not stress the heroism of their work as was happening on the home front. Further, the surveyors found that most soldiers did not attach the same principles to the conduct of the war that seemed to be popular on the home front. For example, a survey done in 1943 found that a third of the men surveyed had never heard of the “Four Freedoms” despite the government’s best efforts to popularize the Freedoms as American war aims. Most soldiers agreed that the war was necessary, but the surveyors concluded that “there was little support of attempts to give the war meaning in terms of principles and causes

32

SETTLING DOWN

involved, and little apparent desire for such formulations.”60 Soldiers were not looking to be heroes. The data from The American Soldier surveys also suggest that as soldiers witnessed the horrors of war or as the war’s end approached, the likelihood that veterans would question the war increased along with their pessimism about the war’s long-term benefits. A survey taken not long after Victory in Europe day (VE day) revealed that more than half the respondents reported feelings that the war was not worth fighting. The survey concluded that soldiers were divided in their reasons for fighting the war and at times seriously doubted the necessity of the conflict.61 In the open-ended responses, this confusion regarding the war and the soldier’s role within it comes through: They also want to know if we think that the war is worth fighting for. How do we know what we are fighting for, all we know is hear-say. If we thought we had a chance of going home sometime to see what we are fighting for we might feel a little more like fighting.62 After a long time on the front a fellow begins to feel tired and bitter. He starts to wonder if he has been forgotten and if his work will be recognized after all he has put into it. Even though he knows better a man can’t help thinking that his unit is carrying the whole burden.63

The surveyors also concluded that many veterans doubted that the future result of the military life would be peace. After the experience of World War I, and witnessing the brutality of this war, many soldiers gave up hope of a “war to end all wars.”64 What came through in these surveys was the image of a very confused serviceman who was trying to come to terms with the experience of warfare and who was not at all confident about his supposed identity as American hero and protector. Soldiers’ military experiences colored their postwar plans in other ways. A unified theme in almost all of the surveys’ open-ended comment sections was the contempt that soldiers felt for officers, noncommissioned officers, and army regimentation in general. Mind-numbing drills, often described as “boy scout stuff,” were portrayed as pointless in many free comment responses. When asked what he planned to do after the war, one soldier replied, “To live without K.P., Guard Duty, roll calls, curfew, M.P.s clothing show-downs, crabs, dehydrated eggs, chicken shit.”65 Clearly the lack of freedom was one of the most frustrating aspects of military life for this and other soldiers.

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

33

The social scientists found that resentment of army authority was another prevalent problem facing soldiers. Military regimentation was particularly vexing for the new, civilian soldiers who had a difficult time making the transition to army discipline. The surveyors grouped soldiers’ criticisms of military authority into three main areas: 1. Many of those exercising authority were unqualified for their jobs. 2. The soldier did not get enough chance to learn the reason why of orders. 3. Authority was exercised as if those in authority assumed a low level of intelligence on the part of trainees.66

Soldiers were willing to “do their job” and win the war, but the inequalities of army life were difficult for many servicemen to stomach. Specifically, many soldiers found army life to be an emasculating ordeal and a process of infantilization that deprived them of their rights as men and independent actors. Soldiers described being “beaten down” by army life and used metaphors of machines, animals, and children to describe the difficulties of dealing with military authority: Army life tends to dull the mind and very soul of a person—it converts him into a machine.67 Yes, I know this is War—War or no war we still are human beings. Treat us as such. It will make us better soldiers, and later on better men.68 We are treated more like a rat than a man.69 Pass restrictions are like those used in children’s camps. We are men—not children.70 I would like to know whether soldiers getting readied for combat should be treated like children. That seems to be the general situation.71

The military’s bureaucracy, inefficiency, officiousness, and attempted domination of soldier’s lives created a struggle for men who sought to retain a sense of identity and independence during their service. The fact that this army was one primarily made up of civilian volunteers and draftees meant that the move to the controlled atmosphere of the military would be a difficult transition for many who did not want to sacrifice their individualism and manhood in favor of patriotism.72

34

SETTLING DOWN

The most common targets of the soldiers’ wrath when it came to antiauthoritarianism were officers. Officers were resented for their lack of training (often referred to as “ninety-day wonders” due to the length of Officer Candidate School), chastised for their stupidity, and attacked for their inefficiency. A typical response: “Most officers I have been under are stupid and mean. I wouldn’t like to serve with them in combat. I consider many of them to be 4-Fs in uniform.”73 These complaints could be dismissed as general “bitching” or complaining about the army, but many other soldiers went beyond citing the general incompetence of officers in expressing their hostility to military authority. Soldiers spoke passionately about the injustice of suffering under arbitrary authority while fighting for their country. Many wanted to be regarded as individuals by officers and not to be viewed simply as cogs in the war machine: “Don’t treat your men like children (for non-coms [noncommissioned officers] and officers). Treat them with the same respect you would have to have used as a civilian in order to get along with people.”74 This demand for respect was an important theme in almost all surveys in all theaters. In regard to officers and their mistreatment of their men, soldiers reacted against what they felt was an undemocratic, un-American system of privilege that reserved the best for officers, many of whom had yet to prove themselves as leaders worthy of command or respect. The social scientists utilized the term caste system, coined by many of the soldiers, to describe the inequalities that existed between officers and enlisted men. In one survey, the Research Branch cataloged free comment responses and found that “the overwhelming majority of the criticisms dealt with special privileges of officers, their concern for their own prerogatives and welfare, and their indifference to the deprivations of enlisted men.”75 Soldiers took the opportunity in the free comment section to express their displeasure over the division between officers and enlisted men: More equality between officers and men. Because a man is an officer don’t make him a God. We are fighting a war for equality—but our own Army is run on to create a “class basis.” An enlisted man is as much of a gentleman as the so-called officers.76 I believe the officers elected as administration executives in most cases, know less about administrative procedures then the non-coms and privates who do the actual work. In other words, they think they know it all but are just bunglers. They get a lot of screw-ball ideas that if a non-com got them, he would be busted. But because they wear the bars, their word

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

35

is law—and good common sense goes out the window. I have always believed that officers are only human beings and not tin gods. My democratic way of life has taught me that all men are equal and no officer is better than I or should be worshipped as an idol.77

Comments such as these were reserved for non-coms as well, who were also seen as petty tyrants or “bucking” for promotion at the expense of other men. For many in the armed forces, the sacrifices of military discipline came at too high a price, and they found irony in fighting for Americans’ freedom even as their rights were being curtailed in an unjust military. In addition, officers seemed to acknowledge some elements of the caste system when surveys compared their responses to those of the enlisted men. One survey found that although predictably 80 percent of enlisted men agreed with the statement “promotions in the Army are based on who you know, and not what you know,” 60 percent of officers concurred. For many soldiers, the army represented threats to their individual autonomy and their ability to be justly rewarded for their efforts. The hatred of undeserving authority figures and their control over the lives of soldiers deeply affected what a substantial number of veterans desired in postwar America and what shape they felt their civilian lives should take. Questioned about what they wanted in the postwar era, many soldiers tied their hopes to obtaining good jobs not just in order to support their families and be solid citizens, but also due to the need for independence after their long periods of submitting to higher authorities: Economic freedom first and [a] place on the social ladder second, and freedom from regimentation are the things I want most.78 What I want most is a good job. Just a chance to make a decent living so I can feel free and independent.79

The restrictions of military life during the war encouraged this and many other soldiers to place a premium on independence in the postwar era. Economic independence was tied to individual autonomy and freedom from the prohibitions placed on servicemen during their terms of service. A theme of wanting to be “left alone” was also prevalent in many soldiers’ free comments. Historian Michael Gambone has written that many vets sought not to “fit in,” finding that “separation from civil society . . . was an important way to gather breathing space in what was a new

36

SETTLING DOWN

and strangely alien culture.”80 A need for separation also placed these vets at odds with home front prescriptions for the veterans’ need to immerse themselves in community leadership. A sample of responses: After the war I wish to leave the army and their control all together. I want to be free to live my life my way.81 I would appreciate being left alone, with my family, for a period of at least six months. I’m tired of being told what to do at every step.82 Leave fellows like me out of your plans and we would appreciate it very, very, very much. I’m dead serious.83 We are supposed to be fighting for every man, be he young or old, poor or rich, to have a chance to earn his livelihood and to be unhampered in any way by anyone. The freedoms as expressed in the four freedoms should be carried out to their fullest extent. If one man is denied any of these freedoms, or any group of men, be it by govt. restriction, conscription, or in any other manner we shall have fought in vain. It is my humble prayer that after it is all over we can settle down to a life of opportunity, to not only think, but to do as we please and pursue our way of life unhampered by any one. I look forward to the day when a man can say, “My life is my own, I can live it as I please as long as I don’t interfere with the welfare of others.” May it soon come.84

Soldiers expressed the desire to return home and head families in accordance with the home front conception of the role of the veteran, but the particular masculine norms that portrayed them as heroes and mandated communal responsibility were unacceptable to many veterans who expressed their own, more independent visions of American manhood. This desire for independence transferred into the aspiration of many soldiers to be their own boss following the war’s conclusion. Free comment responses by many servicemen contained their hope that they would not be subject to the authority of others upon their return to the workforce: If I have a good chance of working for myself would rather do that as I don’t like to work for someone else.85 I should like to get permanently established in some business of my own, as soon as possible. However, I want to be reasonably sure of some success at first so that my family would be taken care of.86

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

37

[I] want a good clean job not a common laborer sort of a job. Just work eight hours a day and then know that I’m through for that day instead of being available twenty-four hours a day. A job that is similar to the one I’m now performing but where I can tell the boss off when things don’t suit me.87 I want to have a business of my own so I do not have to take orders from someone else. I will be my own boss.88

The need for independence translated itself into the hope for selfemployment and to no longer answer to another authority figure. The mind-numbing routine or submission to officers that many soldiers resented led many soldiers to make freedom an important component of their plans for the postwar era. Not all of the critical sentiments of veterans were transferred into the need to be left alone. Some disgruntled soldiers desired isolation from the demands of others and pressure from their communities, but other veterans who were critical of the war effort and the home front expressed a desire to return to the United States and attempt to tackle the nation’s problems. These servicemen dealt with many of the same themes as those who craved more personal autonomy, and they expressed their needs in a more reformist language. For example, many of these veterans still wanted freedom from the type of authority they experienced in the military, but they also framed this hope in more active or positive terms: If I could be left completely on my own, eventually I might be able to start a business and provide a few jobs for some of the other boys.89 If I get a discharge I will start work at something CONSTRUCTIVE— begin living a normal life again—where a man is boss because of his knowledge of the job—where a person can be a human being the Army has not changed my plans but instead has increased the desire to fulfill them.90

The hostility that veterans felt toward unjust authority comes through, but these men were seeking to build something new out of their military experience, and not to retreat into their family lives, in order to assert more control over their lives. Along these same lines, other critical veterans were inspired to enter into politics upon their return, not to fulfill the home front’s expectations but to enact reforms motivated by their wartime efforts. Typical of these types of responses was the need to work for peace in the postwar era in

38

SETTLING DOWN

order to ensure that later generations would not have to fight in future wars: “I would like very much to vigorously partake in political activity so that whatever our sacrifices may be they will be of no avail.”91 These veterans were looking ahead and did not want their sons and daughters to have to suffer through the same trials that they had. Further, veterans were interested in political activism upon their return to make sure that the government and the nation lived up to its promises to veterans: I would like very much for the Federal Government to assure me that when I leave this army, I shall go on a payroll which is at least profitable to me. My father had a sad experience in the last war, as did most of the other men who went to the wars the last time. While they were away, they were great men who were giving their all for their country, but when they came back they were the poor suckers who were left holding the sack while the draft dodgers and otherwise had all they wanted and offered no one jobs but their relatives. . . . I want to be assured that I’ll be worth that after the war, and not be offered a job for seventy five dollars a month, “take it, or leave it”! That may have been O.K. in the last war, but it isn’t going to work after this one, because there are too many of us concerned in this one and we (the fighting younger generation) will fight, if necessary, to assure ourselves that it WILL NOT happen again to us, as it did to our fathers!92 There is another thing I expect to see to and that is that our boys who are fighting this war and live to return home get a square deal in life. If it requires me entering politics to see that this done I will be right in there pitching.93

Still other veterans were looking to take on social problems when they returned home. The dislike of unions, politicians, and a materialistic home front encouraged many veterans to write about changing American society upon their return. One veteran wrote simply, “I will not go back to a community where restrictions and impediments are put in my way by a select few for their benefit.”94 Others had more specific concerns, particularly African American troops who addressed the racism they encountered even as the nation was supposedly struggling for the cause of freedom: I think there is too much color ban and discrimination according to one’s color when all men are dying in this war, regardless of their color. After the war here are some races who will not feel satisfied with being put on the back line again after participating in the war. I look for a civil war if there are not a lot of changes made. There are a lot of people who will not put up with the treatment they received in pre war days.95

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

39

The colored soldier in the South gets a pretty rotten deal. Traveling trains buses and in the cities. Since the negro soldiers have contributed to the war and have taken a large part in the fighting, I feel that we are due some consideration. If not, what are the negroes fighting for? To be faced with the same problems when he returns home when the war is over.96

The war experience led many veterans to question the shape of postwar American society, and although some sought distance from their communities, many veterans were looking to bring the same energy to reform America that they had put forth in the military. Whether they were opting out of positions of leadership or looking to bring their own brand of change to the postwar era, many of the nation’s veterans posed a challenge to notions of stability that were formulated on the home front. These soldiers might not have been the proto-Fascists of some experts’ most desperate predictions, but as seen in many responses to the soldiers’ surveys, the nation would have to contend with veterans’ alternate perspectives as America entered the postwar years. From the beginning, the return of veterans presented a difficult challenge that strained both civilians and soldiers. According to one study of returning vets in a small midwestern community, in the immediate postwar years many ex-soldiers displayed a sense of restlessness, seemed moody, questioned the reasons behind the war, and appeared hesitant to fulfill the expectations of their loved ones after coming home. One vet explained, “I got home here and I found that the town restricts you. There’s lots of public opinion you’re up against. . . . You can’t take off the way you thought you could. Even if you go up to Chicago—no matter where you go—you’ll find it’s just as dead but on a big scale, so that makes a guy kind of restless.”97 Civilians also expressed their disappointment at the soldiers’ behaviors. Many women found them to be rude, impatient, and difficult to be around. Still other civilians worried about vets’ fast living and lack of responsibility. One civilian respondent commented, “[Veterans] are more irresponsible. . . . In the army they worked for a while, and then they forgot about it—they were off duty and could do what they pleased. Here in the states, in civilian life, it’s a twenty-four hour responsibility.”98 As seen in this study, civilians and veterans struggled in the immediate postwar years to work with each other and ease the transition from military to civilian life. Despite the clash of understandings with the home front populace, initially veterans who did question the war effort and expressed doubt about the postwar era were given a forum for their views. Major media

40

SETTLING DOWN

outlets heeded the advice of civilian and military professionals and allowed veterans a period of time in which they could air their criticism. Veterans also published books similar to advice manuals by civilians that were intended to aid in soldiers’ readjustment. These works also expressed a feeling of tension between civilians and soldiers. One of the most poignant commentators on the postwar situation was Bill Mauldin, the Pulitzer-Prize winning cartoonist who gained fame for his drawings of frontline life in Stars and Stripes. In Back Home, Mauldin expressed many of the frustrations that veterans felt upon their return. In one cartoon, Mauldin showed a wounded soldier in the hospital asking a friend, “Am I still a war hero or a drain on the taxpayer?” Clearly some vets believed that civilians felt that the vet had had enough time to recover and needed to rejoin civilian life in a more timely fashion. In another drawing, a soldier was having the paper read to him by his wife. The headline read, “Veteran Kicks Aunt,” and the caption reads “There’s a small item on page 17 about a triple ax murder. No veterans involved.” Veterans disliked their image as criminals intensely and Mauldin’s commentary highlighted veterans’ frustration at being regarded as a possible threat by the populace. Mauldin warned that if the gap between soldier and civilian were not lessened, demagogues could play on these fractures in society.99 Other veterans approached the subject of postwar readjustment with the same type of bittersweet humor as Maudlin. In How to be a Civilian, veteran Morton Thompson wrote about the experiences of returning servicemen, writing humorous pieces on how to buy civilian clothes or use a civilian toilet. In addition, the author included a chapter on “What are Girls” designed for vets who had not seen women on their long tours of duty. But Thompson also took on the problems that vets faced upon their return and difficulties in their transition. Like many other veterans, Thompson was not convinced that his military experience had ensured future peace. His introduction read, “To the Unknown Baby, who will become the Man Who Will become the Unknown Soldier of World War III.” Below this, the author included, “In the sincere belief that the full and honored tomb merits no less consideration than the empty, waiting one.” Clearly, this was a veteran who was unsure about the meaning of the war and the future of world peace.100 Thompson also commented on the fracture between civilians and veterans, attacking the psychological literature on soldier’s sexuality with a chapter entitled “How to Get in Bed with Your Wife.” Described as a subject that “too much has been written about,” Thompson took

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

41

aim at civilian literature that focused increasingly on veterans’ sexual dysfunction or inability to head their households. Still, Thompson believed that civilians struggled during the war, and that veterans should understand that many civilians felt guilty that they did not suffer as much as vets. When discussing what vets should do upon their return, Thompson encouraged returning fighting men to join veterans’ groups and to seek counseling if feelings of disenchantment continued. In the end, the veteran really just wanted to “feel his freedom” above all else.101 Like many of the soldiers in The American Soldier surveys, Thompson placed freedom from authority as the ultimate goal of the returned GI. Veterans also expressed their views in shorter pieces, like an article in Harper’s magazine entitled “It’s Not That I’m Lazy.” Authored by the anonymous “A Veteran,” the article detailed the hardships faced by veterans as they returned to civilian life. He wrote of his difficulty adjusting to his civilian job but admitted “the outside world hasn’t thwarted me yet; I haven’t given it the chance.”102 The author showed how he could not adjust to working for his old job in an impersonal company. What was worse, he could not bring himself to ask for a job after trying so hard in the army and receiving what he felt was very little in return. In the end, he knew that this “doesn’t sound very American. . . . The resilience and clarion call to action are all missing, aren’t they? I’m not responding the way I should according to the rehabilitation program, am I? I’m supposed to snap out of it, buck up, straighten out, and buckle down—and get off [government aid]. I know I’m not what I’m supposed to be. That’s why I’m worried and that’s why I’m trying to figure out why.”103 Like many other veterans, the war experience left this former soldier with unanswered questions and many barriers to reacclimation to American society. Settling down and providing postwar stability was not an easy task for this former soldier. Another example of this sentiment was found in John Barlow Martin’s “Anything Bothering You, Soldier?” The article described in great detail the author’s anger at a postwar America that focused more on the economic consequences of the war, or the joy of victory, than the work that it took to achieve victory. Later in his article, Martin expressed his belief that “civilians never learned much about the war. . . . We were all in this together, so none of us should ever forget it. So somebody has got to talk about it. Yet this is futile, for the gap between soldiers and civilians is unbridgeable. What little civilians knew about the war they have forgotten. They should have been taught more.”104 Like other soldiers from World War II, Martin acknowledged that the home front had to work

42

SETTLING DOWN

with veterans, but he was troubled by the lack of understanding that civilians displayed following the war. By seeing the war as a heroic struggle or an opportunity for economic advancement, the civilian could never comprehend the nation’s veterans and the critical views that they brought with them from their experiences. Martin continued by attacking advertisers and politicians for exploiting soldiers for their own purposes but saved some of his harshest condemnation for the system of inequality in America that marginalized a large segment of the American populace. This led him to question the war in general. He wrote: Why should a man whose skin is black die for something that isn’t there? (I have heard them say they are good enough to be buried side by side in Italy but not good enough to sit side by side in Texas.) And why should old folks in Iowa hang out the golden star and give thanks that the other boy got home? Home to what? And why should the Arkansas sharecropper— God save us, he smelled and never wore his shoes—go back to his acre and his mule when his father cannot sit in the Willard because the old man hasn’t got a coat? And what of the boy whose friends were burned in Germany, the boy whose bride, like him, cannot gain entrance to the hotel by the sea because it is “restricted”?

Racism, anti-Semitism, and class conflict were all problems that the author saw, but he realized that the war affected these fundamental problems very little. He questioned why men should die for freedom if that concept did not really exist in the America. Many of the values that Americans, and civilians, held up as justification for the war effort were found to be suspect by this and many other veterans. If civilians truly knew what had been at stake during the war, then many of the social problems that worried veterans would be addressed by the civilian populace as well. In conclusion, Martin reaffirmed his belief that much of the war would be forgotten, and he chided his fellow veterans for not challenging many of the hypocrisies of the country. He ended with the sentence, “But how can they sit there like that?” Martin’s article dramatically detailed the frustrations suffered by veterans and gave a voice to those who sought to combat social inequalities in America upon their return from duty. Martin was an example of the type of soldier whose military experience seemed to encourage the need to reform American society. Although veterans like Martin chafed against civilian prescriptions and home front

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

43

materialism, they did not want to be left alone like other disgruntled veterans. Instead, these men sought leadership positions in American society, not to solidify home front conceptions of communal stability but to bring reform back home. In Martin’s case, the materialism and social inequality found on the home front was unacceptable in a nation that had just fought a brutal war against Fascism. Veterans like Martin who expressed dissatisfaction with postwar America and sought reform often looked to work with other veterans in formal or informal associations. By grouping together with other servicemen, reform-minded veterans not only hoped to have strength in numbers but also sought to draw upon the close bonds that united soldiers in times of war. As opposed to civilians, whom soldiers saw as more materialistic and self-centered, many veterans felt they knew how to work with one another to get things done. By bringing their tough-minded spirit to the challenges of the postwar era, veterans could move the country in new directions. In a 1947 article for The Atlantic Monthly entitled “We’re On Our Own,” AVC Chairman Charles Bolté reflected this sentiment: “My generation fought for a different war. . . . None of us went as to a crusade. We had been taught that no war is worth fighting, because in war no one wins. . . . This educational process had the tendency to turn cynicism into tough-mindedness, disillusionment into practicality, so that for many of us bitterness against a world we’d never made was translated into the conviction that we make a better one for ourselves.”105 Bolté’s article expressed the disappointment that many veterans felt with the return home, but he injected a sense of hope and desire to change the problems of America.106 Bolté’s article was powerful, but it was nevertheless not typical of the type of image of the veteran that was being reflected in the American mass media. After giving the soldier his period of readjustment, many civilians wanted to put the war behind them and move on to building a strong future. The war was “good,” soldiers were brave, and life needed to continue. Even before the war was over, ads also began to focus on returning veterans as a new market and a source of revenue, rather than dwelling on their military exploits. Instead of being portrayed as hardworking heroes, advertisers tried to convince civilians that the soldiers wanted people to purchase certain products. Living up to many veterans’ worst fears about the home front, materialistic concerns were equated with the image of the soldier as a source of income or a new, excited consumer of American products. An ad for Better Homes and Gardens magazine depicted a serviceman reclining on a chair, with a pipe

44

SETTLING DOWN

in his mouth and a smile on his face. In encouraging other advertisers to purchase space in the magazine, the ad reported on what the returning soldier expected upon his return: “Ask the man back from a Europe on furlough. The whole world can’t hold a candle to that shivery bang of the screen door, the sound of his mother’s laugh, the feel of his favorite chair, the smell of chicken frying. Home is heaven.” After highlighting the importance that soldiers placed on family, the ad continued by combining this nostalgia for home with the reality that returning servicemen were going to be one of the most important sectors of consumers in the postwar economy. It continued, “all his dreams and plans—all his spending—will be for the home he and his wife make when he gets back for good.”107 The image of the soldier in this ad focused not on the soldier’s safe return from hostilities or his importance to the cause of freedom but instead concentrated on the serviceman as a source of economic stability and an economic market to exploit. In another ad, this time for Hamilton watches, a mock letter from a navy captain to his wife was pictured. The caption read, “Dearest, I certainly married a smart gal! You’re darn right I’d like a Hamilton, darling. Next to yourself, it’s the finest anniversary present you could give me.”108 Here, the satisfaction that a servicemen/husband had in his wife was directly tied to her ability to anticipate his material wants. Citizens were encouraged to provide certain material items in order to satisfy soldiers and possibly to reward them for their service. The link between the returning soldier and increased spending was also prominent in a Community Flatware ad that showed a couple in a passionate embrace with the caption “Back Home For Keeps.” After a romantic description of the serviceman’s return, the ad promises women that “the day will come, when you’ll have your own beloved man and your own beloved Community.” The returning veteran became at once not only the object of great longing but also the instrument of increased purchasing power. Happiness was equated not only to the emotional and sexual needs that a returning soldier could provide but also material objects. By being a force of economic and familial normalcy, the returning soldier was being constructed as the backbone of social stability in postwar America.109 Not surprisingly, many servicemen disapproved of the images of the veterans propagated by advertisers. As stated earlier, soldiers had a workman-like approach to the war, and some felt that advertisements such as these cheapened the experience of soldiers and led America to be focused on materialistic concerns. John Bartlow Martin expressed his distaste for advertisers, “I am mad because the ad in Life (full page, in color; and

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

45

plenty expensive) showed pictures of tanks in a river in the jungle and said, “Roughest, toughest test oil ever faced!” Nothing about the men who had to sit inside the tanks. It was very heroic about the oil.”110 In another article entitled, “The Veteran Says: Aw, Nuts!,” author Robert C. Ruark writes of many soldiers’ irritation at the commercialization of the soldiers’ war experience. He writes,“The G.I. was made a helpless target of oozy sentimentality, wild speculation, and utterly shameless exploitation for commercial gain. . . . The battling G.I. was pictured by the copywriters as storming that beachhead for the right to boo the Dodgers, to raid the icebox of apple, blueberry, or cherry pie, in that order. He was fighting for the right to ride railroads, fly the airplanes, listen to Crosby, and buy Krunchy-Krackly Krispies from the Kozy Korner Store, Inc.”111 Soldiers were contesting the trivializing, degradation, myth making, and commercialization of their military experiences. Veterans wanted to be more than a prospective market for American advertisers and attacked the materialism that they felt characterized civilian life. Though they may have chafed at some aspects of the hero tag applied to soldiers, many veterans also wanted the “real war” to be understood to prevent their war experiences from being misappropriated. Even as some veterans took on the materialism they found in American life, advertisements from the late 1945 and 1946 period began to reflect a lessening of the influence that the image of the soldier carried with the public. Increasingly, ads dealt less with soldiers’ material wants or a company’s efforts during wartime and instead sought to portray images of the veteran as he returned to “normal” life. By mid-1946, the image of the soldier gradually disappeared from advertisements. Apparently, portrayals of servicemen had lost their ability to inspire consumers. Only a year after the war’s conclusion, soldiers and their experiences, a powerful tool for marketers, lost their appeal among the American public. In addition, as the war started to become a memory for many Americans, the conflict over the meaning of the war and the difficulties of the soldiers’ return captured less space in the periodical literature. Although 1946 still saw some debate over these issues, by 1947 they all but disappeared. More typical were veterans’ stories that focused on the triumph of soldiers over adverse conditions. In an article entitled “They Licked Their Veterans Problem,” reporter Stanley Frank told the story of Oklahoma City’s efforts to provide help to their returning soldiers. Instead of talking about the social inequities that angered many veterans or the depression that many servicemen faced as they tried to make sense of the war, the article focused upon the economic problems faced

46

SETTLING DOWN

by soldiers. The article stated that “no community wants to renege on the promises it made to the boys who went away,” but the veterans’ return was still viewed as a “problem.” The “promises” that were apparently made to the fighting men by the community appeared to be primarily economic in nature. Discussion of issues beyond housing and jobs was avoided. What was left was the feeling that veterans’ problems could be solved through hard work and economic cooperation. The problems expressed by other soldier authors, such as feelings of alienation, were replaced with material concerns. In February 1946, former Red Cross volunteer and journalist Ruth Sulzberger penned an article that questioned the reasoning of veterans. In “Not the G.I.’s Problem, but Ours,” the article stated that the American fighting man “approached his job and war in general with little understanding of what it was all about—and even less desire to learn about it.” The author continued by questioning the favorable estimations of the German people that veterans made and the disparaging remarks directed at such allies as the French and British. When comments like this were expressed, Sulzberger blamed the soldiers’ “lack of understanding” of the principles of the war and of the current international world order. She concluded by placing the blame on the American public for the “soldier problem” because she felt that those on the home front did not educate soldiers well or did not know the reasons behind the conflict.112 Sulzberger’s article showed how many on the home front completely disregarded soldiers’ understanding of the war in favor of their own interpretation. Sulzberger intimated that she, and not those who fought the war, knew the true reason for America’s participation in the hostilities. Further, she discounted their views on foreign groups even though she admitted that soldiers had a good deal of contact with these groups in Europe. Articles like these showed a tendency for civilians, even in early 1946, to favor their own interpretation over the experience of soldiers. In many ways, the fears that soldiers had of not being understood came true, as civilians increasingly seemed less interested in some veterans’ views. Another article from 1946, “What’s Going on in the G.I.’s Mind,” tried to dispel what the author saw as the myth of the depressed soldier. L. H. Robbins wrote of his discussions with veterans whom he picked up hitchhiking and found them to be positive men with much on their mind. In his talks, he found the ex-soldiers to be concerned about their futures but ready to face the challenges ahead. At one point, Robbins dismissed talk of jaded veterans who had a hard time adjusting to life outside the military.

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

47

He wrote, “The war has not made despairing cynics of [veterans] to the extent that gloomy intellectuals would have you believe.” Basing his article on his own findings, the author questioned the sociological surveys and advice of “experts.” He found little for the nation to be worried about and had great faith in the country’s future.113 Again, a civilian, using his experiences as evidence, discounted the very public declarations of other veterans and based his views upon a limited and questionable source of opinions. After several car rides, the civilian believed that he could truly know what was “going on” in veterans’ heads and could interpret their experiences for his audience. As civilians were speaking for veterans and their problems, former soldiers were also beginning to adopt an understanding of the war and veterans’ experience that was similar to what noncombatants were forwarding. In “Don’t Let the Veteran Down,” a 1946 article from the Saturday Evening Post, General Leon W. Johnson lamented the civilian treatment of the nation’s fighting men. In trying to gain support for increased opportunities for housing and employment for veterans, the general used dramatic imagery to stir the hearts of his readers. He wrote, “Your sons know how to die. I know, because for two and a half years I saw them flaming from the skies over Africa and over Germany.”114 Although many soldiers were unsure about the use of this type of dramatic imagery to gain benefits, by 1946 the success of the GI Bill and veteran political candidates showed ex-soldiers the benefits that their war records and “heroism” could bring. Another good example of this type of article is Richard L. Neuberger’s 1946 piece, “This is a World I Never Fought For.” In it, the ex-soldier detailed the difficulties that he and other veterans encountered in seeking adequate housing. In order to dramatize his plight, Neuberger reminded his readers of the price paid by soldiers during World War II: “We have proved ourselves capable of sacrifice and heroism.” In addition, the author tried to illustrate his despair over postwar housing difficulties by stating, “The war was grim and dreadful, yet perhaps we shall look back upon it as sort of a golden age when we were concerned about our brothers.”115 The effect of this statement was to remind America of the sacrifices that were made during wartime and to shame civilians into providing increased benefits for veterans. With arguments like these, veterans were buying into the home front understanding of the war and its soldiers and using terms like heroism and courage to describe what many soldiers had previously characterized as a dirty, tough, and less-thanheroic job. The conflict over what the role of soldiers should be in the

48

SETTLING DOWN

postwar era was settled for some veterans. They were heroes and they deserved a particular type of treatment. By 1948, the problems of the war that many servicemen had expressed at the war’s conclusion had almost completely disappeared from writings by soldiers. From this period into the 1950s, articles discussed the plight of disabled veterans, the problems of postwar housing, and the effect of the GI Bill. Debates continued over the extent of veterans’ benefits, but discussions of the war and veterans’ roles seem to have merged with the prevailing opinions of the home front populace. Further, veterans were still confused over what their postwar compensation for their service should be. Many appealed to their heroic status, but others dramatically rejected their identity as veterans and instead wanted to be treated as “regular citizens.” Unlike earlier articles by veterans who wanted to downplay their veteran status, some later articles in 1947 and 1948 reflected a desire to almost completely disassociate themselves from their war experiences. In “The Veteran says: ‘Aw, Nuts,’” Ruark talked about how the estimations of psychiatrists, law enforcement officials, and politicians were wrong to identify veterans as threats to postwar order. He repeated the soldier’s contempt for much of the advertising that used images of the fighting man, but he found veterans well adjusted to civilian life and only identified the problems they had with housing and employment. The article ended with a discussion of the veterans two years after the conflict, stating, “It now would appear that not only is it possible to take the man out of the Army, but it is also possible to take most of the Army out of the man.”116 Ruark and other authors saw the eventual goal of veterans was to assimilate to the point that they no longer were recognized as different from civilians. This refusal to make the war experience a significant part of a veteran’s identity found a voice in ex-serviceman Theodore Draper’s “There are No G.I.’s Any More.” Published in the Saturday Evening Post in January 1948, Draper composed his article after visiting his old division’s reunion. There he found that although some GIs did have readjustment problems, the majority had gone on to find employment or to start new businesses. After talking about these successes of his comrades, Draper wrote that, “G.I. Joe disappeared about a year ago and nobody seems to miss him.”117 Draper and his friends apparently closed a chapter of their lives and continued on as civilians. This supported the findings of the midwestern study of returning vets. The authors found by the late 1940s that civilians and veterans showed the same level of personal and social adjustment.118

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

49

Draper realized that readjustment had not been easy on everyone, but that did not lead him to change his assumptions. He wrote, “Adjustment to civilian life has become an accomplished fact for most men, except those with disabilities.” Apparently, disabled soldiers had adjustment problems because of the severity of their injuries or because they had obstacles to economic self-sufficiency, and warranted a different category of readjustment experience. For the rest of GIs, the problems of identity and the clash of military and home front experiences were solved for Draper by the beginning of 1947. Soldiers were becoming active members of their society and not shirking their communal responsibility. In most ways, Draper found veterans living up to the postwar roles that the American home front had prescribed. He ended his piece, “All in all, the average veteran is too busy with the present to pay much attention to the past.”119 In many ways, this was a fitting epitaph to the critical views of the war and American society that many veterans expressed. After a period of questioning, the overwhelming majority of veterans accepted or at least did not actively resist the civilian interpretations of World War II and the postwar role of the veteran for more than a decade. The large number of veterans expressing divergent views from the American mainstream largely disappeared by the 1950s as vets took up the task of trying to create a stable postwar nation. So how did veterans who had expressed strong doubts about the postwar era “settle down” so thoroughly by 1950? Certainly as time wore on, civilian worries about “the veteran problem” began to lessen, limiting insulting comments by civilians. Another important reason may have been the answer to a question that soldiers had been debating among themselves from the war’s conclusion: what was the role of a veteran in the postwar era? The choice was apparently between heroism and special benefits or an anonymous slip back into civilian life. Although many soldiers wanted the government to aid them in their readjustment, others chose to distance themselves from their identity as veterans or at least downplay it in the postwar era. If these men had to forgo trying to correct any perceived misinterpretation by the nation’s civilians of the war and soldiers’ experiences, perhaps it was a small price to pay for the benefits accorded their military service, such as the GI Bill, or the anonymity that many veterans craved. Whatever the case, most veterans seemed to accept their roles as heroes by 1950.120 Though the success of vets in the postwar era may have encouraged many to limit their critiques, those who still espoused differing views found out that their opinions and experiences were not acceptable in the growing cold war consensus culture, and they would have fewer outlets

50

SETTLING DOWN

for their ideas as the war was quickly relegated to history. The anger and malaise that affected so many soldiers was forgotten or replaced as veterans settled down to work within a postwar America uninterested in opinions that challenged the ideas of conformity that were marginalizing dissent. Just as civilian prescriptions had suggested, the home front had provided soldiers the opportunity to express their critical views as part of their readjustment. As the cold war continued, this type of criticism was less acceptable as conflict with the Soviet Union encouraged veterans to focus more on themes of unity in early cold war America. This was not simply a matter of consensus norms silencing soldier dissent. Soldiers were certainly not at odds with all elements of the postwar role that civilians had defined for them. As expressed in The American Soldier surveys, many soldiers wanted to form households and looked forward to a society that expected them to be the head of their families. Veterans’ ability to receive benefits, locate employment, and find adequate housing relatively quickly provided stability and eased some of the tension and bitterness expressed by returning soldiers.121 The writings of returned veterans highlighted differences with civilians, but many servicemen were in agreement that veterans primarily looked to start families and find steady work. Veteran Benjamin Bowker wrote in Out Of Uniform, “What would be the standards that World War II veterans would expect from America? . . . They were promised good jobs among the sixty million envisioned for the prosperous future. They were promised homes made more comfortable through the wonders of scientific development. They were told to lay down their lives, if necessary, in the defense of a good system of government and an abundant way of life.”122 These were promises that civilians had every intention of keeping as long as veterans adhered to societal norms and assumed positions of economic and communal responsibility. This is true also for the understanding of the war experience of veterans. As time wore on, veterans’ benefits were obtained many times through appeals to the merits of one’s sacrifices as a soldier, and the home front interpretation of the conflict became increasingly more advantageous to servicemen. Many soldiers did not want to talk about the war specifically, but others were willing to refer to their veteran status in order to obtain different goals. In addition, many soldiers had difficulty expressing the emptiness they felt and consequently they had a hard time trying to relate to civilians or alter the home front enthusiasm for the conflict. Without the proper ideological tools to combat the propaganda of the home front, soldiers for the most part accepted the interpretations set down by others.

“THE RECEPTION COMMITTEE”

51

In large part, veterans had come to accept or were silenced by the onset of the cold war consensus culture that had its origins in the home front understanding of what the postwar world would look like. Notions of stability, the focus on the family, the need for community over individuality, and the understanding of the United States as a force for freedom were all part of the home front’s conception of the war and the role of veterans upon their return. Veterans enthusiastically supported many consensus norms, especially notions of prescribed gender roles and the need to settle into a good job. As cold war tensions began to mount, civilians and many veterans were looking for increased social and political stability in response to the growing international threat from the Soviet Union. Many veterans’ questioning of the war, the home front, American materialism, communal responsibility, and other issues was not compatible with the need for consensus in an unsure postwar world. The majority of soldiers fulfilled the roles laid out by the home front and became the economic and social leaders that would help lead cold war America. The prevalent image of the disgruntled veteran largely disappeared as the heroism and unity of soldiers came to dominate popular understandings of the World War II generation.

This page intentionally left blank

2

“The New Generation Offers a Leader” Lt. John F. Kennedy’s 1946 Race for Congress

n its November issue from 1946, PIC magazine ran an article featuring World War II veterans and their entrance into American political life. Describing the wave of veterans as a “new political tide,” author and veteran Robert S. Allen attempted to describe why so many veterans were looking to run for office in 1946, “Many veterans went to war without knowing what they were fighting about. Some still don’t know. But whether they do or don’t, all are sure of one thing: that the job they set out to do was not finished when the shooting stopped.” But Allen did not end his discussion of veteran motivations with a sense of duty to nation. He also mused on the alienation that many vets felt upon their return home: “Some don’t like the way the home front behaved while they were away. The sensational revelations of the Senate and House war contract investigations are heaping fierce fuel on these flames. Others are aggrieved over what they feel is a growing public apathy toward the suffering and sacrifices experienced by the fighting men. Among them the expression ‘war hero’ had become a bitter term of derision. Others are fed up with boss rule that they never noticed or bothered with before. They hostilely resent being ‘pushed around’ and are determined to do something about it.”1 As seen in the soldier surveys and postwar writings of many vets, the desire to prevent the kind of wars they just fought coupled with anger over the conduct of the war on the home front inspired veterans to seek

I

54

SETTLING DOWN

positions of political power upon their return. Many believed that the only way to bring about needed changes in postwar America was to enter the political sphere and bring new perspectives and leadership inspired by the trials of their wartime experience. The elections in 1946 would be veterans’ first chance to do so. On the cover of PIC was a photo of John F. Kennedy, the Democratic Party’s candidate for representative from Massachusetts’s Eleventh Congressional District. The choice for the cover was probably not a difficult one. Kennedy had returned home from the Pacific in 1943 with much fanfare, the son of one of America’s wealthiest families hailed as a hero for saving the lives of his crew after the PT boat he commanded was cut in half by a Japanese destroyer. At only age twenty-nine, Kennedy won a hard-fought but ultimately lopsided victory over seasoned political opponents in Massachusetts to capture his party’s nod for a safe seat in an overwhelmingly Democratic district. Wealthy, famous, heroic, and good looking, Kennedy was a shining example of what the new veteran political class could look like, and America could feel safe with a candidate who pledged to “serve my country as honestly as I tried to serve it in war.” Here was a celebrated veteran who was living up to home front prescriptions that asked returning veterans to take up positions of leadership after their return. But Kennedy also expressed doubt in his abilities, questioned his desire to run for public office, and chafed at the expectations of his father and others on the home front. Similar to many returning veterans, Kennedy at times had an uncomfortable relationship with his own status as a war hero and felt unease at the use of his military record for political advantage. Just as other veterans had to make difficult choices in their effort to integrate into American society, Kennedy was forced to reconcile the ideas and misgivings inspired by his war service with his desire to work within civilian society and get elected. Motivated by their war experiences, Kennedy and other veterans returned to the United States seeking to bring change to the home front and shape the direction of postwar domestic and international politics. In becoming a candidate, he wanted to bring new ideas to the political arena, but Kennedy also had to rely on his father’s money, old-style political advisors, and the public’s reverence for his war record in order to win. As the national face of the new veteran turned politician, his candidacy was an important example of the dilemma faced by many vets who wanted to further their own unique vision of postwar America yet had to contend with developing notions of consensus created on the home front.

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

55

With the threat of hostilities in Europe and Asia making headlines, Kennedy enlisted in the navy in 1941 and was eventually able to secure an officer’s commission despite a chronic back condition. Kennedy later received PT boat training and eventually gained an assignment in the Solomon Islands. Taken with tales of the boats’ daring exploits in the early stages of the war, Kennedy was put in command of his own vessel. He was still an inexperienced commander and had yet to distinguish himself in battle when, in the early hours of August 2, 1943, his PT boat joined others in patrolling waters for enemy fleets. While patrolling in the darkness, Kennedy’s PT-109 was struck by the Japanese destroyer Amagiri and cut in half. Kennedy and his men held onto the wreckage of the ship as long as they could but then decided to try and swim to land in order to secure aid. In the ensuing swim, Kennedy pulled an injured crewman with him until the crew reached the shore. Once there, Kennedy made dangerous and ultimately futile attempts to swim and attract searching PT boats. He and his crew were eventually discovered by natives who had been alerted to their presence by an Australian observation officer. Eventually the crew was rescued, and Kennedy, listed as missing after the wreck, made headlines. Already a minor celebrity as the son of millionaire and the former ambassador to Great Britain, Joseph Kennedy, the young lieutenant’s exploits seemed to be tailor made for a beleaguered home front in need of heroes. Kennedy’s story was eventually popularized by Pulitzer-Prize winning author, John Hersey, in a piece written for the New Yorker that was then picked up by the widely circulated Reader’s Digest. Entitled “Survival,” the piece highlighted Kennedy’s bravery under pressure, valor in saving his wounded crewman, and courageous if unsuccessful swims to find aid for his men.2 After gaining another short and uneventful command in the Pacific, Kennedy returned to the United States, eventually receiving a medical discharge. Returning home as what he mockingly called a “legitimate American hero,” he displayed some of the same apprehensions and difficulties upon his return stateside suffered by other veterans.3 In an early interview, Kennedy lavished praise on his crew when recounting the PT-109 incident and rejected acclaim when talking about his own role. The article quotes him: “None of that hero stuff about me. The real heros [sic] are not the men who return, but those who stay out there, like plenty of them do, two of my men included.” When prodded that he was a hero for rescuing his crew, Kennedy replied with the “dirty job but someone must do it” simplicity that typified many of the responses found in the American Soldier surveys and postwar writing by vets: “The job of a PT

56

SETTLING DOWN

boat officer is to take the men out there—and just as important—to bring them back. We took them out . . . we just had to get them back.”4 Kennedy’s refusal to accept the role of hero and his straightforward, nondramatic recounting of his actions were in line with many vets’ understanding of their wartime experience. But like many veterans, Kennedy would find this modest, almost self-effacing understanding of his war experiences challenged on the home front as he entered the world of politics. Kennedy went on leave at his family’s home in Palm Springs, and one observer noticed some of the difficulty that Kennedy had in making the switch to civilian life. On his first night back, Kennedy showed the strain of his service: “He was very sensitive in a way he didn’t show, but this night it was a great shock having gotten back from this thing he’d been through and going to a place he used to dance all the time and seeing everybody and trying to fit in. Y’know, the difference between being at war and being at home. The tensions of war and the pleasures of Palm Beach. He could usually make those transfers kind of easily, but this night it was tough.”5 Like many servicemen, Kennedy was unsure about his return home, embittered about his wartime sacrifice, and somewhat uncomfortable with the tag of “hero” that, due to his fame, he dealt with more publicly than other combat vets. While weighing his options for the future, Kennedy accepted an assignment as a reporter for the Chicago Herald-American and covered the United Nations (UN) Conference being held in San Francisco and the elections in Great Britain. Kennedy had some notoriety as a commentator on international events with the publication of his Harvard thesis, Why England Slept, but this was not the reason Kennedy was selected as a reporter. Highlighting his war service, Kennedy was hired to provide “the veteran’s viewpoint” on these momentous events. Papers around the country installed columns that focused solely on veterans’ concerns, and the Herald-American probably wanted to gain the appeal of one of the country’s most famous war heroes for its pages. This was the first time that Kennedy was expected to be a voice for America’s veterans, a task that he took seriously if somewhat hesitantly in later years, and his understanding of the role of the veteran in the postwar world first appeared in his dispatches. Frustrated with the progress of the UN conference in San Francisco, Kennedy urged Americans to work to prevent future wars. In a letter to one of his PT-109 shipmates, Kennedy displayed his passion for preventing future conflicts and avoiding the devastating effects of war that he knew firsthand:

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

57

It would be easy to write a letter to you that was angry. When I think of how much this war has cost us, of the deaths of Cy and Peter and Gil and Demi and Billy and all those thousands and millions who have died with them—when I think of all those gallant acts that I have seen or anyone has seen who has been to war—it would be a very easy thing for me to feel disappointed and somewhat betrayed. . . . You have seen battlefields when sacrifice was the order of the day and to compare that to the timidity and selfishness of the nations gathered at San Francisco must inevitably be disillusioning. . . . We must face the truth that the people have not been horrified by war to a sufficient extent to force them to go to any extent rather than have another war. War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and prestige that the warrior does today.6

With sentiments like these, Kennedy was in line with veterans who felt distaste for elected leaders and civilians who could not understand the true cost of armed conflict. For Kennedy, veterans knew the evils of war best, and in his articles he dramatized the vet’s desire for peace and security in the postwar era. Writing about disagreements at the UN conference, Kennedy attempted to be the voice of the veteran: “The average GI in the street, and the streets of San Francisco are crowded with them, doesn’t seem to have a very clear-cut conception of what this meeting is about. But one bemedaled marine sergeant gave the general reaction when he said: ‘I don’t know much about what’s going on—but if they just fix it so that we don’t have to fight anymore—they can count me in. Me, too, Sarge.’”7 Kennedy would later make the veteran’s desire for peace a cornerstone of his appeals for vets to get involved in postwar politics and would challenge them to get involved to prevent the same types of catastrophes as the second World War. In this way, Kennedy supported home front notions of the veteran’s postwar role by encouraging former servicemen to lead the nation into the future. After traveling to Great Britain to report on the defeat of Winston Churchill’s Conservative Party, Kennedy returned to America to contemplate his future plans. One option open to the attractive, wealthy, well-educated war hero was a run for elected office. Before his death serving as a pilot in England, most observers of the Kennedy family had assumed that Joe Kennedy Jr. was favored by their father to run for office, while Jack seemed headed for a career in journalism or academia. But Kennedy had vocalized some of the same disenchantment with postwar

58

SETTLING DOWN

America shown by other vets who were ready to bring their perspectives, honed by their military experience, to the political scene in 1946. With the return of the nation’s veterans, the country braced for changes in all aspects of American life—social, cultural, economic, and political. Politicians who ran the country in the veterans’ absence knew that many servicemen were unhappy with some of the stories that they had heard coming from the home front. Tales of labor disputes, the wealth of defense contractors, and political mismanagement of the nation’s war effort ensured that many veterans would return home asking hard questions of their elected officials. Vets were also taking action if they felt that politicians were not best serving the needs of the community. In a famous dispute in Athens, Tennessee, a group of veterans violently overthrew a local political boss who had rigged local elections. Soon Athens and its veterans became national news. The focus on Athens seemed to be an example of what civilians both liked and feared about veterans. Vets had the capacity to bring leadership to their communities, but at the same time they were feared by some civilians for their supposed clannishness and a predisposition toward violence.8 But veterans did not have to engage in such violent revolts to worry established politicians. The sheer number of returning veterans added a new, uncertain element in American politics. For their part, politicians looked to ease the transition of the nation’s veterans by the passage of the GI Bill, which contained sweeping promises to the fighting men and women and was designed to prevent the type of discord that plagued the return of American soldiers from previous wars. Although legislators were interested for patriotic reasons in placating vets upon their return, those in power surely realized that it was also good politics to befriend eighteen million heroic voters. But the GI Bill and politicians’ promises of aid were not enough to satisfy all veterans. The year 1946 was the first one in which veterans had the opportunity to make significant inroads into American political life, and a large number of servicemen ran for public office on the local, state, and national levels. In its November issue, PIC magazine’s profile of veteran-candidates estimated that close to one hundred young veterans were running for “top offices,” while hundreds more were campaigning for local seats. With the different perspectives these candidates were bringing, the author surmised that long-time politicians were scared at the possibilities for real change that vets’ candidacies presented.9 Was Kennedy one of these veterans-turned-politicians, ready to change the system after fighting for his country? In the large body of

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

59

biographic literature surrounding John F. Kennedy, there has great debate about Kennedy’s motivation to first enter into politics. The chief point of dispute is over whether Kennedy was truly interested in politics or, due to the death of his older brother, was pushed into running by his ambitious father. The competing accounts of his decision to run for office reflect some of the uncertainty expressed by veterans in the immediate postwar era. There seems little doubt that Kennedy’s father heavily influenced his entrance into politics, but that fact should not invalidate Jack’s own desire to shape American and international politics and prevent Americans from fighting in future wars. Joe Kennedy’s overbearing influence and direction was the type of control that many veterans wanted to be free from after their service. The younger Kennedy may have grumbled about the pressure from his father, but he also knew that with his father’s aid he could achieve some of his own goals. Kennedy and other veterans were forced to make these types of difficult decisions as they reacclimated to civilian life. How much could one adhere to the expectations that the home front had for the nation’s servicemen yet still retain the skepticism and passion for change inspired by veterans’ war experiences?10 Kennedy’s decision to run for office seems to embody this conflict in many veterans’ lives. Meeting the candidate in Florida just after the announcement of Kennedy’s intention to run for Congress, friend Charles Bartlett confirmed both Kennedy’s distaste for politics and his desire to be involved in reforming the postwar world: Some of the Palm Beach figures would come up and pat him on the back and say, “Jack, I’m so glad you’re running for Congress.” I remember his saying, “In only a year or so they’ll be saying that I’m the worst son of a bitch that ever lived.” But he was very clear about his decision to go into Congress. He said that he was giving up the newspaper business; that he felt that it was slightly frustrating; that you didn’t really get much done in the newspaper business; that if you really wanted to accomplish anything, you had to become a politician . . . sometimes you will read that he was a reluctant political figure being dragooned into politics by his father. I really didn’t get that impression at all. I gathered that it was a wholesome, full-blown wish on his own part.11

The fact that Kennedy may have hated politics and resented his father’s influence did not prevent the young veteran from realizing that political office was a necessity if he was going to help America avoid global conflicts in the future. Perhaps, as many commentators have noted, Kennedy might

60

SETTLING DOWN

not have run in 1946 if his brother had lived, but presented with the opportunity he understood what he had to gain from a seat in Congress. Whether it had been 1946 or later, Kennedy’s experience in the war seemed to drive him to want a position of power and influence. He wrote to a friend that the war “makes less sense to me now than it ever made and that was little enough—and I should really like—as my life’s goal—in some way and at some time to do something to prevent another.” In this way, Kennedy mirrored the sentiments found in the soldier surveys that looked to change the political landscape back home. Like other returning veterans who would run for political office, Kennedy expressed a desire to avoid the mistakes of the past and to provide leadership in the postwar era, even if it meant doing things he found distasteful. When Kennedy finally made the decision to seek political office, the question became where and what office to seek.Although born in Boston and educated at Harvard, Kennedy spent a large part of his life in New York, Florida, and abroad. Still, his family had strong ties to Massachusetts, and it seemed the best place to begin his political fortunes. Both of his grandfathers had been active in Boston politics. Patrick J. Kennedy had been a Democratic ward leader for years in East Boston, and John F. “Honey Fitz” Fitzgerald had been mayor of Boston and a congressman from the Eleventh Congressional District. Also, the Kennedys were treated as royalty by Boston’s large Irish community, and Joseph Kennedy still had many connections in state and local offices. In addition, Joseph Kennedy was advised by several local political figures, including long-time associate Joe Timilty and distant cousin Joe Kane. Both men were experienced political insiders who could give the Kennedys expert advice on the difficult terrain of Boston politics. Although Massachusetts seemed an obvious choice to begin the young hero’s political career, the question of what position to seek was more difficult. Consulting his political advisors, Joseph Kennedy wanted his son to run for the Democratic nomination for Massachusetts lieutenant governor. This was a statewide position, and he thought it would provide his son with the needed exposure for future campaigns for higher office, but his political advisors thought the race for Congress would be better in the long run. The advisors eventually won out, and Joseph Kennedy made a deal with James Michael Curley to give up his congressional seat in Massachusetts’ Eleventh Congressional District to run for mayor of Boston. Curley was in need of money because of a series of legal troubles, and Joe Kennedy offered his support if the congressman would make way for his son’s candidacy.12 The winner of the party’s primary in this solidly

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

61

Democratic district was assured of victory in November. Even with the lieutenant’s heroic war record and celebrity, Joseph Kennedy’s money and connections proved instrumental in laying the groundwork for his son’s entrance into American politics. Despite the Kennedys’ fame and wealth, and the fact that Honey Fitz had won in the same district, the fight for the Democratic nomination was not going to be an easy one. Kennedy would have to deal with the local political bosses who controlled voting in the district, and many were not happy that the young veteran was not paying his political dues before running for a major office. In addition, Jack’s future constituents came from a wide variety of economic and ethnic backgrounds, forcing him to interact with groups of voters with whom he had little in common.13 Made up of the North End and West End of Boston, East Boston, Cambridge, Brighton, Somerville, and Charlestown, the district has large populations of Irish and Italians and other smaller immigrant communities, and it retained a significant number of Yankee voters as well. Although some parts of the district were crime-ridden slums, other parts were home to lower-middle and middle-class voters and, in Cambridge, a significant liberal academic wing. Each of the district’s sections had its own character and sympathies and Kennedy needed the advice of experienced residents to crack into the local political scene.14 A strong field of nine other candidates would also be a major obstacle. Kennedy’s toughest opponents were Mike Neville, an experienced political insider and the mayor of Cambridge, and Charlestown’s John Cotter who had worked as Curley’s secretary. Other strong challengers were experienced Italian-American councilman Joseph Russo, Catherine Falvey, a WAC major from Somerville, and experienced politician Joseph Lee of Boston. Many of these candidates had built-in constituencies—Neville had Cambridge, Cotter had Charlestown, Russo could gain much of the strong Italian-American vote, and Falvey could draw women voters. Kennedy was an outsider who had not built up a reputation in Boston. He was also not the only veteran. Cotter, Falvey, and Lee had all served in the military and could fracture Kennedy’s hope of rallying veterans to vote as a bloc for his campaign. One of the chief attacks against Kennedy was the fact that he had not lived in the Eleventh Congressional District, or even Massachusetts, for long stretches of time. Called a “carpetbagger,” Kennedy’s unfamiliarity with the district was a difficult charge to counter. His local address was at the Bellevue Hotel, not exactly a strong sign of residency. One attack

62

SETTLING DOWN

along these lines read: “CONGRESS SEAT FOR SALE—No Experience Necessary—Applicant Must Live in New York or Florida—Only Millionaires Need Apply.”15 Other attacks were leveled at Kennedy’s moneyed background. John Cotter called attention to the disparity between Kennedy’s wealth and that of constituents, highlighting Cotter’s work to help voters through a harsh winter while Kennedy “was basking at Hialeah and the sun-baked sands of Palm Beach.” He further stated that the Kennedys “came to Boston to buy another race track and to buy a seat in Congress. The record shows that they failed to buy the race track and the record will show on June 18th that they failed to buy a seat in Congress.”16 Moreover, Kennedy at this point was not the polished, personable candidate that he would become in subsequent campaigns. Although he appears to have been a great one-on-one conversationalist, Kennedy made numerous public appearances, which forced him to be more of an outgoing personality. Long-time Boston politico Bill Kelly remembered Kennedy’s difficulties at this early point: “He was very retiring. You had to lead him by the hand. You had to push him into the pool rooms, taverns, clubs and organizations. He didn’t like it at first. He wanted no part of it, and he just went along with it.”17 Campaign advisor Mark Dalton described Kennedy as “an aggressive person” but admitted that “he was always shy. . . . He was not the ordinary type of campaigner in the sense that he was not affable and easy going.” Only through perseverance and “a tremendous effort of will” was Kennedy was able to overcome his social hesitation and become an effective candidate.18 Along with his social hesitations, Kennedy was also not the strongest orator at this time. In their recollections of the 1946 race, campaign workers remember Kennedy as a nervous speaker who had difficulty getting through some of his speeches. Speechwriter Joseph Healey recalled Kennedy’s problems, “We had to spend a great deal of time polishing something into a speech that we thought was fairly worthwhile and then, frankly, in our opinion he would not do it justice.”19 Again, Kennedy would improve his speaking skills over the course of the campaign, but he did not have the same level of oratorical expertise of some competitors. In his decision to run and in regards to the creation of a campaign strategy, Kennedy relied heavily on the advice of his father’s experienced political advisors. But he was also intent on bringing changes to the political scene and looked to attract supporters other than the local insiders in order to win this hotly contested seat. Inspired by his war experiences, he and his younger advisors were looking for innovative ways to sidestep

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

63

some of the traditional Boston campaign strategies. Because of this, Kennedy hoped to lure political novices to his campaign and, more specifically, returning veterans. In a Look magazine feature on the young war hero/candidate, Kennedy’s “top echelon of advisers,” such as his father and Joe Timilty, are mentioned, as well as the contributions of “practical political advice” provided by younger insiders, such as Bill Sutton. But also featured were Kennedy’s “amateur brain trust,” made up of former navy pals Ed McLaughlin and Red Fay, and Harvard friend Torbert MacDonald. The impression of the campaign is one of a combination of youth and experience pulling for Kennedy’s election, and returning veterans with their desire to change things on the home front would be a large part of this formulation.20 Kennedy associate Dave Powers described the effort to recruit young, committed workers as opposed to an experienced staff: From the start of the first campaign for Congress in 1946, [Kennedy] made it a point, with a few exceptions, to avoid alliances with well-known and established politicians and their followers. His theory was that an experienced politician might bring you his friends, but you would also inherit all of his old political enemies. “Get me some people who haven’t been involved in politics,” he would say to a newcomer who impressed him favorably. “Fellows like yourself, around your age and just out of the service. Call me when you get eight or ten of them, and we’ll have a meeting.”21

In a speech after the primary, Kennedy stressed the theme of energy over experience and claimed veterans were perfect workers in this regard: “As anyone connected with politics will tell you, one enthusiastic amateur who will address envelopes, make telephone calls, ring doorbells, pass out cards, is worth a dozen political hacks who hang around headquarters, beefing and griping and advising. It seems to me that veterans, who know organization, and—most important—what is at stake in this coming election, are especially needed in the Democratic Party.”22 With the recruitment of young campaign workers, and particularly veterans, Kennedy was in part pushing Boston away from old-style politics and bringing fresh voices onto the political scene. Kennedy may have publicly dismissed the participation of “political hacks” in his campaign, but experienced workers were as important a part to his candidacy’s success as the energized newcomers. Joseph Kennedy had consulted “old pols” from the beginning, and although the campaign did rely heavily on young veterans, many had political experience. Supporter Bill Sutton was a vet who had worked for Kennedy opponent

64

SETTLING DOWN

John Cotter before the war, and Dave Powers had also been involved in the Charlestown political scene before his stint in the military. Veterans Peter Cloherty and James Kelley were two other experienced political workers who were recruited for the campaign. The image of a campaign waged by politically untutored vets gave Kennedy’s fight for Congress an air of sincerity and a do-it-yourself, grassroots freshness that could limit criticism that Kennedy’s father was buying the election, but the candidate was not so naïve that he believed earnestness alone would win the nomination. He needed men who knew the political terrain and who could get out the vote.23 Kennedy also had the benefit of his father’s money and prestige to rely on. Unlike their opponents, the Kennedys employed an ad agency to handle press releases and advertising, keeping Jack’s name in the papers and providing professionalism to the campaign. The Kennedy camp used a massive advertising blitz, putting the candidate’s face in subways, on buses, and in other areas. Joseph Kennedy was rumored to have spent an astonishing $250,000 on the campaign. Kennedy’s opponents complained that although the young war hero and his family were being profiled in national magazines, other contenders were having a hard time receiving coverage in even the local papers due to Joseph Kennedy’s influence. Further, Joseph Kennedy’s wealth and political connections led to a new navy destroyer being christened the Joseph Kennedy, Jr. in late 1945, linking wartime heroism with the Kennedy name just months before his son threw his hat in the ring. Unafraid to engage in political dirty tricks, Joseph Kennedy was also thought to be behind the candidacy of a second candidate named Joe Russo, which split a tough opponent’s vote. Russo was forced to run as “The Real Russo,” but his namesake still received almost eight hundred votes. Though Kennedy was committed to running his campaign differently from the old Boston pols, his father’s influence and wealth gave Kennedy more than a fighting chance in the primary. As a testament to this theme, advisor Joe Kane explained the three things it takes to win in politics, “The first is money and the second is money and the third is money.”24 The fact that Kennedy relied on his father’s wealth and political advisors and that many of his key operatives were familiar with the local political scene does not mean that the 1946 campaign brought nothing new to Eleventh Congressional District. Kennedy was able to draw in significant numbers of untrained supporters, and although not all of his volunteers were “new,” many of his experienced workers came to his campaign because he represented a genuine alternative to some of the

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

65

practices old-style leaders. An experienced but young political insider, Bill Sutton called Kennedy a “breath of spring” when compared to Boston’s older generation of politicians.25 For all the help Kennedy received from “old pols,” his campaign did represent something different for his supporters. Instead of being run solely by outsiders or dominated by seasoned professionals, Kennedy and his staff put together a coalition of experienced political workers with enthusiastic newcomers who wanted to be part of the campaign. Advisor Peter Cloherty explained, “I would say that it was a rather unique campaign inasmuch as there were a great many young people who I don’t think ever had been interested in politics before. There were others who never were particularly interested in politics that weren’t necessarily young. And there were many, many experienced people who had been through the political wars over the years who for one reason or another, friendship with his father or acquaintanceship with the family, that were involved. It was really a highly diversified group of people that were involved in the campaign.”26 Kennedy was able to show himself to be a new type of candidate who drew different types of people to his campaign. Powers reflected that “well-suited to the changing times, [Kennedy’s] air of quiet refinement and his unaffected and sincere platform manner were a welcome contrast to the hard-boiled pols of the Curley era.”27 Kennedy’s supporters hoped his candidacy might signal an end to some of the graft and corruption associated with urban politics. The United States had suffered through a terrible war and voters were looking for alternatives to politics as usual. Veterans who had led the country in war could now guide the nation down new paths in peacetime. This focus on change seemed ideal to attract support from returning vets. Coming home from overseas, many veterans like Kennedy were looking for increased roles of responsibility and leadership on the home front. In recruiting former soldiers, Kennedy was tapping into an energetic yet unfocused populace, many who were interested in bringing the insights learned from their military experience home to American society. Friend and campaign worker Anthony Galluccio said that he “couldn’t even spell the word ‘politics’” when he joined the campaign but felt that he was typical of returning vets who were drawn to Kennedy because they “had ideas of what we wanted to do in terms of leadership and being active participants after we had come back from the foreign scene.”28 One of Kennedy’s key advisors, Mark Dalton, explained the feelings of many vets like himself who were entering the political scene: “There was a

66

SETTLING DOWN

tremendous ferment after the war. The whole feeling of taking over— that it’s a new era. The young veteran wanted to do something, and he was naturally attracted to John Kennedy. The older fellows through loyalty would remain with the older candidates; and the younger fellows didn’t know the older people and wanted to go with a new young fellow. And it was exciting. There is no question about that.”29 Kennedy’s campaign offered an attractive option to Boston’s veterans—the voice of an ex-serviceman who was speaking to the issues that they cared about and offering a different political approach than an older generation of politicians. By not giving in to conventional political style, Kennedy was able to attract the veteran population and give his campaign the type of vigorous support the candidate needed if he hoped to win his first election. A large part of Kennedy’s constructed public image was an emphasis on his youth and vitality. As portrayed in his campaign literature, Kennedy was part of the generation that fought World War II and returned home to move America into the postwar world. Although he was derided for his age by opponents, Kennedy’s campaign stressed the candidate’s energy and touted him as a representative of a new breed of leader. Created, ironically, by the experienced, elderly Joe Kane, the slogan for the Kennedy campaign was “The New Generation Offers a Leader.”30 In many ways, Kennedy’s campaign sought to give the impression that an older generation was passing the torch to veterans and others who had come of age in a time of economic depression and war. Some of the campaign literature featured a line from the introduction of Why England Slept by the editor of Time and Life, Henry Luce: “If John Kennedy is characteristic of the younger generation, and I believe he is, many of us would be happy to have the destinies of the Republic turned over to him at once.”31 Kennedy, like other vets, had saved the country and had the strength and leadership skills to lead the nation into a new era. The candidate was fulfilling home front prescriptions encouraging vets to seek positions of influence within the nation. The need for veterans like Kennedy to embrace leadership was not a task that the candidate appeared to take lightly. This theme of veterans’ obligation to the community not only was touched upon in his political speeches but also was a personal cause as witnessed in his attempts to recruit other vets to his campaign. In one speech about veterans groups, Kennedy lashed out at the type of veteran who sought to distance himself from his community because of anger, fear, or apathy. Many servicemen had expressed these feelings in the American Soldier surveys and brought feelings of disenchantment from civilian society back home. Although

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

67

Kennedy had many of these thoughts, he was unwilling to give in to feelings of resentment. His desire to create changes in American politics led him to attack those who wanted nothing to do with politics or felt little obligation to civil society: There are some people in this country, and there are veterans among them, who feel this coming election is of little importance. Perhaps the fatigue of post-war America explains the indifference. Perhaps it is explained by the fact that politicians are regarded in this year as a necessary evil, and there is even some question about their necessity. What ever their reason, to me, this lack of interest, this apathy, is dangerous and may be disastrous. . . . Today many men—and women—are saying, “What does it matter to me?” It should matter a lot, especially to the veterans. The veterans now comprise about 45% of the men in this country. A large percentage—too large to permit ourselves to feel that we are a privileged minority; too large to feel we have only rights, not duties—too large not to see clearly that is not for others that we fought, but for ourselves. Too large indeed to be indifferent to the future of our country.32

For Kennedy, veterans had too important of a role to play to stand on the sidelines. By joining veterans groups or involving themselves in campaigns like his, they were continuing to show their commitment to the success of the nation. 33 In reading about his recruitment of veterans, one is struck by Kennedy’s ability to convey a sense of energy, sincerity, and purpose in his efforts to gain support. Vet Thomas Broderick who worked for the campaign was impressed by Kennedy’s ability to speak to veterans’ issues, stating “that was the thing that made me feel so attached to him.”34 Dave Powers was an unemployed veteran in 1946, living on government support for returning vets. When Kennedy sought his help, Powers turned him down because he felt he should support Charlestown’s John Cotter. Powers would later be convinced to join Kennedy’s campaign when he watched the candidate talk to a group of Gold Star mothers who had lost their sons in the war. Kennedy was not yet a particularly effective speaker, but when he told the audience that his mother was also a Gold Star mother, Powers saw the huge outpouring of genuine affection the candidate received. “I said to myself, I don’t know what this guy’s got. He’s no great orator and he doesn’t say much, but they certainly go crazy over him.”35 Many veterans were passionate about bringing change to the country. This was in part because they did recognize the complexity of postwar society, including their own situation. Kennedy was able to build support

68

SETTLING DOWN

for his candidacy precisely because he was able to draw upon veteran disillusionment and channel it into the progressive energy of his campaign. In another recruitment story, Kennedy was able to use personal conflicts over his own candidacy to convince a key member of his staff to join the campaign. A navy veteran, John Droney was asked by Kennedy’s friend and political worker Anthony Galluccio to go to Kennedy’s apartment and talk to the candidate about working for him. Going up to his apartment, Droney saw it was full of military officers and, feeling “disgusted,” he left. On the way down, he met Kennedy in the elevator: “And [Kennedy] said, ‘you’re leaving before we had the appointment?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ ‘What’s the matter?’ And I said, ‘Well, Tony Galluccio asked me to come over, and I came to please him because he’s a good friend of mine. But I had enough of the brass during the war, and I thought it’s time to drop it.’ He laughed and said, ‘John, I feel the same way as you but Tony thinks you can help me in Cambridge, and I’d like to sit down and tell you my plans.’”36 Here both veterans were expressing the antiauthority views of many vets, even former officers like Droney and Kennedy. Living under army regimentation had made many vets wary of this type of caste system on their return home, and Kennedy’s military experience was able to give him the understanding to relate to other veterans. After convincing Droney to stay, Kennedy asked for support, but Droney told the candidate that he was married and wanted to practice law as soon as possible. Again, Kennedy would not be put off: “He said that he’d wanted to be a newspaper man but his brother was killed during the war and his father felt he was best fitted to replace Joe. He said, ‘You want to be a lawyer and practice law, and I want to be a newspaper man; but if we’re going to do the things we like to do we have to do many things we don’t care about doing.’” 37 This statement seems to highlight Kennedy simultaneous dislike for politics and the pressure he felt to live up to Joe’s memory, yet his own personal conviction that veterans like Droney and himself had an obligation to work for change in American politics and society. In connecting with Droney and other vets on the theme of change and commitment to the community, Kennedy was able to enlist some of his most dedicated and talented campaign workers. In order to widen his appeal to veteran voters, Kennedy’s campaign started a “Kennedy for Congress Veterans’ Committee” to highlight the candidate’s commitment to veterans issues and his ability to sympathize with the problems of returning servicemen. Kennedy and his friends set up the Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) post in Boston, which helped to organize veterans behind Kennedy’s campaign

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

69

and link the Kennedy name explicitly with veterans groups. The campaign mailed out letters to servicemen in the Eleventh Congressional District in order to gain their support. In one mailing, veterans were told about Kennedy’s pledge to represent veterans’ views in Congress. It began, Fellow Veteran: Much of the legislation before the next Congress will concern veteran’s [sic] problems—jobs, housing and hospital care. Members of the Kennedy for Congress Veterans Committee feel that it is to the best interests of the nation to have a capable, young veteran of wide experience represent the District in passing upon this important legislation.38

Here the campaign stressed Kennedy’s commitment to veterans, appealing to voters’ economic concerns rather than issues of foreign relations. Although the veterans’ vote was coveted by all candidates in 1946, Kennedy made vets’ concerns an important focus of his speeches. Chief among the topics he discussed were the lack of adequate housing for vets and their families, inadequate medical facilities for disabled soldiers, and the failure of the GI Bill to follow through on some of its guarantees. In a speech entitled “Responsibility of the Veteran,” Kennedy spent less time talking about the responsibility of veterans and more about the nation’s responsibility to them. He began his speech stating that “no one can set themselves up as veterans’ spokesman” due to vets’ diversity, but here and in other speeches Kennedy was creating the image of himself as a defender of veterans’ rights. Finding America coming up short in areas of housing, health services, educational opportunities, and vocational training, Kennedy warned, “I think it would be safe to say that the let-down felt by the veterans—the result of glowing reports from the home front, of the bright problems dazzled before their eyes, of the very phrase ‘G.I. Bill of Rights’ has turned many veterans bitter towards their country and its citizens who, they feel, have betrayed them and this embitterment has resulted in some ill-advised actions.” In order to stave off any more veteran problems, Kennedy called for movement by the entire nation to integrate the vet: “It takes action on all levels and that action should come from the heart; for remember—the veteran is not merely a problem—the veteran is your husband, your brother, your daughter, your son.”39 In a radio address that stressed many of the same themes, Kennedy ended his speech with “The veterans saved America. America MUST serve and sustain the veterans.”40 Kennedy obviously believed that the country owed

70

SETTLING DOWN

veterans for their sacrifices and as congressman he would make this set of issues a priority. The Kennedy camp also attempted to present itself as the best political organization for vets to join. In a press release that May, the campaign stressed the important role of veterans in politics and portrayed the effort to elect Kennedy as an energetic and just crusade, similar to the military efforts that won the war: One of the impressive features of [Kennedy’s] campaign has been the manner in which veterans of all branches of the armed forces have rallied behind his candidacy and have joined in the drive to send him to Congress to speak for the men who fought in World War II. Men who pushed back the Japanese, island by island in the Pacific, men who stormed into blazing Normandy on D-Day and who hammered their way across France and Germany to blunt the Nazi military might, are no[w] fighting a different kind of campaign—a political battle on behalf of a young man who at one time during the war was reported killed in action.41

Similar to home front literature that urged veterans to move from their role as protectors abroad to one of protector at home, here Kennedy’s campaign details servicemen’s ability to transfer the energy they expended fighting the war to political fights back home. Again, vets were urged to adhere to at least part of the home front prescription for the postwar era by accepting the responsibility of leadership in their communities. Along with sympathizing with other vets, Kennedy seems to have retained some of the camaraderie from the war that veterans felt was missing from the civilian world. Kennedy was running against three veterans; the most dangerous being John Cotter. In a letter to voters (on his former boss James Michael Curley’s stationery), Cotter highlighted his “40 months . . . as an enlisted man,” similar to Kennedy’s emphasis on his own navy exploits to win over veteran constituents.42 However, the Kennedy campaign learned Cotter’s war service had been as a recruiter for the WAC. This would provide the Kennedy campaign an opportunity to juxtapose their virile hero’s combat service with Cotter’s “effeminate,” stateside job. Kennedy’s role as an active combatant fit more with the home front’s notion of the soldier as a masculine protector. The fact that Cotter worked in the recruitment of WACs would only add to the image of the emasculated home front paper pusher, working with women

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

71

rather than serving on the front lines sacrificing with other men. Who would voters rather choose—a war hero or a bureaucrat? But Lt. Kennedy would not have any of it. According to aide James Kelley, Kennedy wanted nothing to do with smearing Cotter’s record: “Jack reared up and said that if that was the way he was to win the contest he wanted no part of it. No man’s service or character would have any attack made on it during any part of the campaign.”43 Kennedy was unwilling to attack a brother soldier and damage the comradeship between veterans simply to win elected office. Cotter had done his part to aid in the war effort, just as Kennedy had done his, and it was not for his campaign to question Cotter’s commitment to his country or his manhood. Although Kennedy stressed the need for change on the home front and challenged the nation’s citizens, he was not going to engage in this instance of divisive campaigning that was commonplace in Boston political races. He refused to make distinctions between combat and support service, showing his commitment not to engage in mudslinging and not to create divisions between servicemen when the nation needed their leadership. Even though Kennedy and his recruits hoped his campaign would provide an alternative to politics as usual, his inexperience was a real strike against his candidacy. His advisors understood that their candidate’s lack of public service hurt him compared to Mike Neville, John Cotter, and other opponents, and looked for the best ways to give him political credibility. Combined with the “New Generation” theme, the campaign focused on Kennedy’s war record to give him the political clout he would need to convince skeptical voters. They hoped that the sympathy and reverence for vets’ sacrifices during the war years would carry over to the postwar political realm. The home front had built up the nation’s fighting men as heroes, and Kennedy and other candidates now were able to use their elevated status to obtain political power. John Droney recalled that the campaign “made a great play for veterans,” but also related a story of one civilian’s response to Kennedy’s candidacy. The campaign received a reply to one of its veteran mailings from a man whose son had been killed during the war. The letter read: “‘I know if my son were living he’d want me to help another veteran.’ So, he said,‘Mr. Kennedy, anything I can do for you I want to do, and I’m sure all the veterans and their families feel the same way.’ This was a great advantage. Mike Neville wasn’t a veteran and Jack was, and it was a tremendous help because this was the time when the veterans were all returning.”44 Clearly, some civilians were touched by the war and looked to veterans to lead the nation in the

72

SETTLING DOWN

postwar era. Veterans’ heroism on the battlefield was turned into political currency on the home front as vets were able gain real benefits from their military experience. In Kennedy’s case, the publicity he received from PT-109 ensured that his war record would receive more political mileage than most. One early press release dramatically tied Kennedy’s war experience with his desire to hold public office and at the same time attacked old-style politicians: “In the Solomon Islands, when ships were sinking and young Americans were dying all around him, John F. Kennedy made a solemn pledge to himself aboard the battle-scarred PT he commanded. The pledge was to serve his country in peace as well as in war—no matter what the cost to his own ambitions in private fields or the discomfort that might be at the hands of any who are politically ambitious in a mercenary way.”45 Here Kennedy set himself up as an alternative to politicians like Neville who had not served in the military and had run the nation in the war years. Kennedy’s heroism buttressed his claims of honesty and at the same time the literature took a swipe at the old-time machine politics, or “mercenary” politics, associated with insiders like Mike Neville. On the whole, however, Kennedy attempted to stay above the fray and run a campaign unlike the mudslinging contests that had been a tradition in Boston politics. Boston journalist James Colbert believed that Kennedy’s campaign style marked a real departure by his refusal to attack his political rivals: “Jack Kennedy ran a strictly positive campaign. Up to that time, I think the common practice was that the candidate, to be successful, had to attack his opponent, had to disparage him, had to discredit him. My recollection is that Jack Kennedy made no criticism, made no attacks upon any of his opponents, that he concentrated entirely upon his own candidacy and it proved to be a very successful strategy.”46 This was yet another way Kennedy sought to set himself both from his opponents and the older generation of politicians. Without his heroic war record, Kennedy might have had an impossible task in trying to win the primary. With it, however, Kennedy became a political commodity that his advisors were eager to sell to the public. According to Bill Sutton, “The PT-109 was the great theme of the campaign. We did all we could to make sure that every voter in the district knew that Jack had received the Navy and Marine Corps Medal as well as the Purple Heart for his service in the Solomons during World War Two. By the time the preliminary election day rolled around, ‘Kennedy the war hero’ and ‘PT-109’ were household phrases in the Eleventh District.”47

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

73

With his good looks, famous name, and war record, Sutton concluded that his candidate was “a good product, like Coca-Cola.”48 Other workers referred to Kennedy in these commercialized terms. Charles B. Garabedian commented, “If you have a product that you can sell, you don’t have any difficulty selling it, and Jack Kennedy was the top product. He was very easy to sell to the people.”49 Even Kennedy’s father remarked, “We’re going to sell Jack like soap flakes.”50 Clearly the campaign was unashamed to exploit Jack’s war experience for extra votes and did its best to advertise their candidate’s accomplishments as much as possible. PT-109 was such an integral part of the campaign that during the final week before the primary the campaign distributed ten thousand copies of John Hersey’s “Survival” story from Reader’s Digest. One Kennedy campaign member thought that the last-minute reminder of Kennedy’s heroism “was the clincher, a knockout blow, the jig was up. A story went around that after one of the opposing candidate’s wife had read the reprint, she said she’d have to vote for Jack.”51 Kennedy’s heroism was not simply a display of character, it was a product to advertise and display for maximum benefit. But it appears that Kennedy was uncomfortable with using his military achievements for political advantage. Those close to Kennedy have stated that far from being proud of his war record, he was embarrassed by its heavy use in the campaign and questioned its handling by his managers. Dave Powers writes, “Although Kennedy’s supporters played up his war record during the primary campaign, Jack himself seldom mentioned it and squirmed uncomfortably when he was introduced at rallies as a war hero.”52 John Galvin remembered a billboard featuring Kennedy in his navy dress and medals being rejected by the candidate because it was too ostentatious.53 During the campaign, he showed a marked dislike for the political mileage being made on the PT-109 story and sarcastically told a friend, “My story about the collision is getting bigger all the time. Now I’ve got a Jew and a Nigger in the story and with me being a Catholic, that’s great.”54 Kennedy’s feelings about being called a war hero and the marketing of his war record seem more in line with the feelings of disenchantment that he suffered after the war. Despite his desire to gain office, Kennedy like other veterans chafed at terms like hero, yet his managers continued to hammer home this theme throughout the campaign. And it continued to pay large dividends. The experience of PT-109 and the resulting hype gave Kennedy a compelling masculine persona that could draw in potential supporters. Dave Powers’s recalled taking

74

SETTLING DOWN

Jack on his political rounds in local bars and listening to his constituents’ reactions. After meeting the candidate, Powers would “stay back and get a sense of what the longshoreman thought. And invariably they’d say the same thing in a different way, all boiling down to something like ‘Now, that guy has balls.’”55 The heroic image of Kennedy’s PT-109 experience gave him an instant masculine rapport with men of different social classes from whom he needed support. So was Kennedy a reluctant hero who chafed at his need to use his heroism to win votes, or was he a master campaigner, shrewdly turning his veteran status and war record into votes? Critics have charged Kennedy with purposely inflating his activities in PT-109 to get elected. 56 Again, in context of many veterans’ experiences, both interpretations may be valid. As seen in the soldier surveys and vets’ postwar writing, veterans were not always consistent in their expectations upon their return. On one hand, many sought anonymity in their integration back into American society. They claimed to be regular guys who did a dirty job and now looked only to revive some semblance of the life they gave up. On the other hand, veterans were also concerned about their future on the home front and were critical of how civilians had conducted the war. Many vets demanded certain privileges or sought positions of authority in recognition of their sacrifice. Contradictory as these notions may have been, they could exist within the same vet. Given the heroic images found on the home front and the confusion that marked many veterans’ returns, it is little surprise that veterans were attempting to figure out their expectations for postwar America. Kennedy’s feelings about his war record exemplify this contradiction. Kennedy was hesitant to accept praise for what he had accomplished in the war and was possibly more apprehensive than other vets given the press coverage of his exploits (and any misinformation these pieces contained). But Kennedy also seemed to be proud of his military service and sincerely believed that it was the duty of veterans to prevent another war in the future. Realizing the advantage that his war service provided, like other vets, Kennedy accepted his role of hero in order to accomplish other goals. In light of the confusion of other vets, it would be surprising if Kennedy had completely come to terms with his status as veteran or hero. The commodification of his wartime experiences for political consumption may have seemed an acceptable means to achieve his objectives. Kennedy supported the solidification of the heroism of his and other veterans’ war experiences and, in doing so, helped to further consensus notions that were taking shape in postwar America.

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

75

Though Kennedy allowed his war record to be advertised, he still retained some of the veteran malaise in the campaign that affected him after his return from overseas. The bitterness and confusion of veterans like Kennedy came through in a speech from the campaign that he gave to various veterans’ organizations and other groups. Kennedy did begin the speech by detailing the PT-109 incident but emphasized the heroism of his crew as much as his own actions. Still, this was an obvious chance to tell a story that many voters in the district knew well and to stress the heroism of Kennedy’s war record, if subtly. But Kennedy also reflected a darker mood that revealed some of his own frustration as a returning veteran. In the speech, he focused on the heroism of one crew member, Pappy McMahon, whom Kennedy had dragged to safety, swimming for hours after McMahon had been badly burned when PT-109 was cut in half. After talking about McMahon’s refusal to accept a medical discharge and the camaraderie experienced by men at war, Kennedy’s speech took a somber tone when describing the veterans’ return: Now McMahon and others are coming home. They miss the close comradeship, the feeling of interdependence, that sense of working together for a common cause. In civilian life, they feel alone, they feel that they have only themselves to depend on. They miss their wartime friends, and the understanding of their wartime friendships. One veteran told me that when he brought one of his Army friends home, his wife said, “What can you possibly see in O’Brien?” The veteran remembered O’Brien in Italy, walking with him in Sicily to the Po Valley, every bloody mile of the way. He knew what he could see in O’Brien. We forget that dependence on other people is with us in civilian life just as it was in war. We are dependent on other people nearly every minute of our lives. In a larger sense, each one of us is dependent on all the other people in this country—on their obedience to our laws, for their rejection of the siren calls of ambitious demagogues. In fact, if we only realized it, we are in a time of peace as interdependent as the soldiers were in the time of war.57

Kennedy drew upon the lessons he and other veterans learned during their military experience in order to construct a vision of a postwar order that built on the types of bonds created during wartime. His expressed discomfort upon his return home and the similarity between the concerns expressed in this speech and elsewhere shows how the hero of PT109 did share some of the same confusion and concern of other, less

76

SETTLING DOWN

well-known veterans. Kennedy’s candidacy represented not just the advancements of the new veteran class in politics but their complexity of their experience as well. Kennedy was also looking to be the candidate of the future, but he did not want to lose support by alienating older constituents in the district. Trying to appeal to all voters, Kennedy downplayed the New Generation theme as a conflict between young and old. Calling the New Generation a “state of mind,” Kennedy linked his slogan more firmly to ideas of political reform: The “new generation” includes all, both young and old, who are tired of the old political game, who are tired of the old political double-talk, who are tired of the mouthings of men who talk and talk and talk but have no positive program of action. . . . The time has come to put a stop to the old political game. Two wars within a generation is adequate proof that we can no longer gamble by placing our fate in the hands of those with a consistent record of failure. Now is the time for a new approach to government. Now is the time for clear thinking in government. Now is the time for forthright speech in government. Now is the time for action in government.58

In this speech, Kennedy launched his assault on ineffective “old” politicians who he felt led this nation into wars. This was a challenge to politicians like Neville and Cotter, well-established players on the Boston political scene and everything that Kennedy regarded as wrong with government. He clearly offered himself as an alternative to politics as usual and played up his role of political outsider. Kennedy was a new voice and carried himself as a confident, dignified candidate who had little need of the old style of verbal jousting, but the campaign was not afraid to defend itself from the attacks of its opponents. When a Charlestown heckler derided the fact that his address was only a hotel in the district, calling attention to Kennedy as a carpetbagger, Dave Powers retorted, “Nobody asked him his address when he was on PT-109! Because his boat was sunk, does that mean he can only vote in the Pacific?”59 Although this line of defense did not really answer a legitimate question as to Kennedy’s ability to represent a district he hardly knew, Kennedy’s status as war hero was an effective way to portray such criticisms of the candidate as antiveteran bias. Not all answers to critics were as heavy handed. At a Democratic rally, Kennedy was kept waiting to speak to the audience by a chairman who was unfriendly to the campaign.

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

77

After hearing each candidate being lauded for overcoming backgrounds of economic deprivation, when Kennedy took the stage, he said,“I seem to be the only person here tonight who didn’t come up the hard way.” The audience laughed in approval, and Kennedy was able to deflect some of the criticism that his rich family was simply buying the election.60 Despite the youthful image and the energetic campaigning that was winning converts, Kennedy was in great physical pain. The chronic back problems that almost kept him out of the service and eventually led to his discharge caused him great discomfort throughout the campaign. In addition, unbeknownst to him at the time, the candidate suffered from Addison’s disease, a rare adrenal condition that left him with a weakened immune system. The experience of PT-109 and his life in the Pacific probably exacerbated his physical deterioration, and now the tough campaign that he was embroiled in took its toll. Kennedy often felt weak and, due to his back condition, spent a great amount of time in hot baths trying to relieve his strain. Probably the most dramatic episode that revealed the extent of Kennedy’s ill health was his march in the Bunker Hill memorial parade shortly before the primary election. Kennedy and his supporters walked a long course, beginning in front of the VFW Post named for his fallen brother. Unfortunately, Kennedy had barely finished his walk when he collapsed from exhaustion and had to be whisked away to his apartment to prevent a public relations problem. 61 Kennedy was known to be a member of the Disabled War Veterans, and his bad back was often attributed to injuries suffered from PT-109, but he refused to use his “war wounds” as ammunition in his fight for Congress or to gain sympathy. This would have undercut his campaign’s focus on his strength and boundless energy, and might have limited his appeal as a leader of a New Generation. Kennedy would continue to suffer from health problems for the rest of his life but continued to portray himself as a healthy, energetic, and vigorous leader. Kennedy was able to overcome his health problems and gave more than five hundred speeches in his election bid. Early in the campaign, Kennedy was comfortable with discussing international politics, portraying the war in dramatic terms, and outlining general moral principles that were needed in the government and society. In the Pappy McMahon speech, Kennedy ended with a patriotic appeal to his fellow citizens to combat the rise of Communism and work with one another to safeguard the principles of America: “We must work together. We must recognize that we face great dangers. We must recognize how interdependent we

78

SETTLING DOWN

are. We must have the same unity that we had during the war. For years we have enjoyed certain blessings, just laws, freedom to speak and believe and write as we please, a government for and by the people. . . . Now we know these principles are never secure. We must work continually to keep them alive.”62 Here Kennedy attempted to appeal to all Americans to defend the liberties of the United States as passionately as servicemen fought on the battlefield. For Kennedy and other veterans, World War II provided a guide for future vigilance, and he was attempting to warn his constituents of the problems if America did not heed the lessons of the past. Working with a set of values developed during the war, Kennedy, like other vets, would shape the direction of the postwar era. Though the Pappy McMahon speech was typical for Kennedy early in the campaign, and was an appeal to patriotism and sacrifice on the part of Americans, Kennedy’s focus on international issues and overarching political themes may not have appealed to many voters in his largely working-class district. Kennedy had always stressed the need for improving veteran’s employment, health, educational, and housing opportunities, but he had to reach out with these issues to the entire community. 63 Along with this, Kennedy had to be careful not to alienate other voters with calls for the improvement of veterans’ benefits and his attempts to bring change to the district. Although supporting the nation’s heroes did appeal to the veteran and the civilian alike, there were elements in American society that were worried about giving too much to vets and, in the process, leaving the rest of the country behind. When giving a passionate speech about the need to improve veterans’ housing, Kennedy was interrupted when an audience member said, “What about the nonveteran?” Kennedy was able to placate the heckler by stating, “Yes, sir, the non-veteran too.”64 Kennedy would later confide that “as a veteran, he didn’t have to vote for everything that the veterans wanted.”65 A good representation of Kennedy’s inclusive strategy was a political poster showing a veteran with his father looking at a Kennedy advertisement. The father says, “That’s our man, son,” emphasizing Kennedy’s appeal to vets and nonvets alike.66 In order to appeal to a larger number of voters, Kennedy changed his speeches to include less far-flung rhetoric and moved more toward issues like rent and price controls and higher minimum wages.67 Another new way the campaign sought to broaden his appeal beyond veterans was the use of house parties and teas to publicize Kennedy the candidate. A throwback to an older style of campaigning that had been largely abandoned, the campaign used informal meetings to introduce

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

79

Kennedy to his constituents. On a given night, the campaign would set up nine to twelve house parties, numbering twenty-five to seventy-five guests at each. Kennedy, aided by his sisters Eunice, Pat, and Jean, was able to use his considerable personal charisma to win votes and also to draw volunteers to the campaign.68 Inspired by the success of the house parties, the teas were for women only and designed to cash in on some of the Kennedy mystique in the district. Engraved invitations asking voters to meet Kennedy and his parents at the teas drew huge crowds. Many women were intrigued to meet the most famous Irish family in Boston, and Kennedy was able to increase his popularity among female voters tremendously. In addition, observers noted the popularity the wealthy and good-looking bachelor candidate had with single women in the district: “Every girl in the district was dreaming and hoping that maybe lightning would strike.”69 Although the teas were deemed too effeminate by some of Kennedy’s advisors, their tremendous allure showed his ability to move beyond the heroic machismo of his PT-109 experience to pull in voters. Kennedy was able to use other aspects of his masculine image, most notably his sex appeal, to build support for candidacy. Kennedy’s strategies paid off. Although he may not have shared the strength that his opponents had in their individual wards, his constant personal campaigning and ability to advertise made him the most wellknown candidate in the entire district. In trying to finish at least second in all the wards, Kennedy hoped to overturn his opponents’ home field advantage. By the end of the campaign, Kennedy looked increasingly stronger, and some of the other candidates braced for defeat. In the end it was not even close. On June 18, Kennedy out-polled Mike Neville, his closest competitor, by almost two to one. Neville only beat Kennedy by 1,300 votes in Cambridge, Neville’s own district, and Cotter barely beat Kennedy by 300 in Charlestown. Cotter, the “real” Russo, Falvey, and Lee all made decent showings, but Kennedy had clearly outdistanced himself from the rest of the pack. Kennedy scored 22,183 votes; Neville, 11,341; Cotter, 6,677; Russo, 5,661; Falvey, 2,446; and Lee, 1,848. In the election in November, Kennedy easily defeated his Republican foe, Lester Brown, in the heavily Democratic district. Though some prognosticators gave him little chance in the beginning, Kennedy made a smashing debut in his first political race. The win for Kennedy signaled many beginnings in American politics. Most obviously, it foreshadowed the rise of the Kennedy clan to political prominence and started Kennedy’s road to the White House. Just as Joseph Kennedy had wished, his family would make an indelible impact

80

SETTLING DOWN

on American politics in the following decades. In addition, Kennedy’s victory was the beginning of changes in Massachusetts politics. Jim Colbert found that Kennedy had made Massachusetts a one-party state. Prior to 1946, the state had voted heavily Republican, but the influence of Kennedy brought many independents and Catholic Republicans into the Democratic fold.70 Further, the style of campaigning brought by Kennedy was the start of a new era of politics in Boston. The old time pols and machine tactics of James Michael Curley would begin to lose their strength in the face of new candidates such as Kennedy.71 In addition, Kennedy was able to attract people to his good looks, charisma, and fame, as much as he was able to woo them with his command of the issues. Local politician John I. Fitzgerald called Kennedy’s reliance on personal charisma “the start of the modern campaign.”72 With his run for office, Kennedy was able to inspire activism by a new group of politically interested citizens, particularly vets. Kennedy was part of a new generation of office seekers who were approaching politics in a different way and were seeking power to bring changes to the American political scene. Though he did not eschew all of the older generation’s practices, Kennedy’s win did signal a change in leadership for the postwar nation. 73 And Kennedy was not the only veteran to win a seat in Congress. Dave Powers remarked that “in 1946 if you didn’t have the word veteran beside your name, you were in trouble—you couldn’t get elected dogcatcher.”74 The “Class of ‘46” would see many new veteran legislators in Congress and their effect was dramatic. Vet “Tail Gunner” Joe McCarthy defeated an incumbent to become a senator from Wisconsin. In addition, two of Kennedy’s later political rivals, both veterans, were going to Washington. Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., Kennedy’s future opponent in 1956, won a senator’s seat in Massachusetts, and Richard Nixon, who would battle Kennedy for the presidency in 1960, defeated a long-time incumbent to become a representative from California. Veterans would be victorious for both parties, but 1946 was definitely the Republicans’ year to shine. Running on the slogan of “Had Enough?” the party attacked the New Deal programs of the Truman administration and succeeded in gaining control of both houses of Congress for the first time since before the Roosevelt administration. Kennedy was one of the few bright spots for the Democrats in 1946. Even though Kennedy’s electoral victory represented a change in American politics, the success of his campaign also signaled the onset of the consensus culture of the 1950s and its ability to influence voices of dissent. When Kennedy returned from overseas, he was an embittered vet

“THE NEW GENERATION OFFERS A LEADER”

81

who had many questions about the efficacy of the war and his own supposed heroism in the PT-109 incident. But Kennedy was willing to largely overlook these concerns and allowed his campaign to exploit his war record for political credibility. By buying into the image of veteran as hero, Kennedy was able to overcome his handicap of limited political experience and received much support based solely on the quality of his character as evidenced by his bravery in the Solomons. Like many vets, Kennedy was certainly ready to support other aspects of American consensus culture without any coercion. He believed like many civilians that vets had an important part to play in leading the nation into the next decade. Also, in many of his speeches, Kennedy highlighted the threat he believed that Communism held for the United States. The Class of ‘46 in general has been characterized as fervently antiCommunist, hostile to labor interests, and probusiness, but it would be difficult to ascribe these feelings to all veteran-politicians. As a congressman, Kennedy was supportive of labor on the whole and pushed for continued wage and price regulation. Kennedy also did not abandon all of his efforts to support veterans once he became congressman and continued to speak out on veterans’ issues. Kennedy worked hard to provide housing for vets, sponsoring a national housing convention and introducing legislation to help vets find decent living conditions. He was one of the main organizers of a national conference on the issue in 1948 and introduced controversial legislation to aid vets in housing. In these efforts he was opposed by the American Legion, whose leadership was influenced by property interests, even though veterans’ housing was an issue of major concern to most of the country’s vets. Frustrated with the Legion’s lack of cooperation, Kennedy decried their “scatter-gun shooting tactics,” and in a congressional debate in 1949 declared, “The leadership of the American Legion has not had a constructive thought for the benefit of this country since 1918.”75 Kennedy’s assault on the Legion was a bold move for a relatively inexperienced legislator and was a testament to his commitment to his pledge to champion veterans’ rights upon his election. Kennedy may have limited some of his veteran cynicism and criticism in order to get elected, but he continued to support those vets who he felt were not being treated well in the rush to reintegrate veterans back to civilian life. Even with his aggressive position on vets’ housing, Kennedy was certainly not leading a political revolution in 1946. Some commentators have characterized his early congressional career unfavorably and point to his high rate of absenteeism and failure to have strong convictions.

82

SETTLING DOWN

William O. Douglas recalled that Kennedy, in his early years in Congress, showed little enthusiasm for the job and “never seemed to get into the mainstream of any political thought or political action or any idea— nothing. He was sort of drifting.”76 He was not alone. Though the rhetoric of reform was present in many veteran campaigns, few of this new generation of politicians truly looked to shake up the system, and they generally fell in step with their respective parties. 77 Veterans-turnedpoliticians wanted political influence in the postwar era, and, by limiting some of the critiques inspired by their war service, Kennedy and other vets were able to lead a grateful yet demanding nation. Though he had some initial misgivings about PT-109 and the public’s adoration of his heroism, like many veterans Kennedy appears to have made his peace with his war experience as time passed. Although he remained somewhat shy about the discussion of his war record, it continued to play a prominent role in his subsequent campaigns, including his run for the White House. After being elected president, on his desk Kennedy kept a replica of the coconut shell on which he inscribed his famous message for help after his boat was sunk. Clearly, Kennedy had embraced his role as a navy hero and benefited from the accolades afforded his brave actions by the American public. As a candidate, Kennedy accepted advice from old-style political advisors and adopted large parts of the heroic image of the veteran that were emphasized in his campaign, yet he retained some of his original ideas for change that inspired him to run for office and attracted large numbers of new people to politics. For Kennedy, and many other veterans, part of the process of reacclimating to civilian life was a gradual acceptance of their status as heroes, which aided them in bringing some of their own visions of postwar society to positions of power. Combining home front ideas with his veteran’s perspective, Kennedy hoped to bring fundamental changes in American and international politics, but he was also fulfilling the image of protector that civilians had constructed for their returning heroes. In the end, it was a small price for Kennedy to accept aspects of the developing consensus culture with which he disagreed in order to be an important part of shaping the nation’s future and become one of the most successful heroes of World War II.

3

Kiss the Blood Off My Hands The Film Noir Veteran’s Quest for Meaning in Postwar America

ollowing World War II, American cinema became increasingly focused on darker themes in its studio offerings, especially compared to some of the blatantly propagandistic movies that studios produced during the war years. Films dealing with crime, disillusionment, and violence treated audiences to less than flattering portraits of American values, citizens, and society in general. Termed film noir by French film critics in the 1940s, this genre of American movies showcased the talents of some of Hollywood’s most innovative directors, talented screenwriters, and popular actors and created pictures of lasting importance that exerted tremendous influence on later generations of filmmakers. Directors such as John Huston, Edward Dmytryk, Elia Kazan, and Jules Dassin all created memorable contributions to film noir and cast stars such as Humphrey Bogart, John Garfield, Alan Ladd, Burt Lancaster, and Rita Hayworth in challenging roles. Even with the war behind them, American audiences appeared to want alternatives to pure celluloid escapism that characterized many Hollywood products and were interested in themes that questioned notions of societal stability and morality. With its dark themes of social chaos, film noir has been used by critics to discuss the tensions at play in the immediate postwar era. Like the major media at the time, the genre appeared to highlight some of the grievances that many servicemen expressed in the soldier surveys and upon their return stateside: greed, lack of community, and disrespect for the sacrifices of soldiers. For screenwriters, the angry veteran was the perfect character to roam the dark landscapes of

F

84

SETTLING DOWN

film noir. Toughened by the war experience, left rootless by their military service, and trained in violence, film noir veterans were outsiders to polite American society and inhabited its seamy underbelly. But it would be wrong to view film noir as just a representation of all the negative feelings many vets expressed after the war. In movies featuring World War II veterans, many films of the genre actually supported developing consensus assumptions about the postwar role of ex-soldiers. As opposed to the existential antihero found in many film noirs, veteran protagonists in these pictures almost always ended up defending many of the values of American society that they were supposedly challenging. Like the civilian advice literature following the war, film noir was part of the reacclimation process for vets that urged them to take up positions of leadership in cold war America. Other films also featured veterans at this time, most notably the classic The Best Years of Our Lives (William Wyler, 1946). But the fact that Hollywood’s supposed bleakest offerings continually reinforced veterans’ capacities for leadership and civic virtue is a testament to how powerful consensus notions about the vet’s duty to settle down were.1 In analyzing how film noir encouraged the domestication of unruly vets in the immediate postwar years, the creation of the cold war consensus can be understood not only as a political or social change but also as a marked cultural shift that limited dissent. Since French critics coined the term “film noir,” scholarly works on film noir have commonly linked the birth of the genre to the disillusionment and social upheaval of the immediate postwar era.2 After suffering through the war years, many Americans looked to the cinema for reflections of uncertain times in a dangerous world. In his influential essay “Notes on Film Noir,” critic, screenwriter, and director Paul Schrader summarized this view of the social origins of film noir: “As soon as the war was over, however, American films became markedly more sardonic—there was a boom in the crime film. For fifteen years the pressure against America’s melioristic cinema had been building up, and, given the freedom, audiences and artists were now eager to take a less optimistic view of things. The disillusionment that many soldiers, small businessmen, and housewife/factory employees felt in returning to a peacetime economy was directly mirrored in the sordidness of the urban crime film.”3 In addition, movie studios lost ownership of theaters in the postwar era and had to compete with an increasing number of independent features. The Breen Office was created to enforce censorship standards after the war, but “the familiar giants now lacked the power as much as the will to enforce the once accepted standards.”4

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

85

This environment allowed filmmakers the freedom to explore new themes and techniques that would become hallmarks of film noir. The violence in film noir was often brutal and unflinching. The “good guy” did not always win, and, even if he did, that victory came at a heavy price. In addition, film noir contained high doses of charged sexuality, often with depictions of evil women seducing men into webs of deceit. Further, many of these pictures examined dark corners of American society, looking beyond simple murder mysteries to stories that deal with criminal scams, drug use, insanity, revenge, and thinly veiled homosexuality. The war years put more money in people’s pockets, but the upheaval of World War II may have also given some Americans the desire to look into topics that often had been ignored in popular culture or polite society. In defending the release of controversial movies such as the film noir classic Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944), the movie studios stated that after experiencing the difficulties of the war Americans were ready for uncompromising films that pushed the envelope in revealing the dark side of human behavior.5 As seen in postwar periodicals, the mainstream American media focused on the difficulties that servicemen faced upon their return and on vets’ predilection to violence or potential to become criminals or domestic Fascists. Headlines often played on these tensions by highlighting the veteran status of many criminals, which exacerbated a climate of misunderstanding between vets and civilians. Veterans were also given forums to express views that were critical of American society and were allowed in many cases to openly express bitterness about their war experiences. These factors made the returning veteran an ideal protagonist in the developing film noir genre, with its emphasis on violence, questioning of societal norms and values, and focus on America’s outsiders.6 Between 1945 and 1950, at least twenty-five film noirs contained portrayals of veterans, including classics such as The Blue Dahlia (George Marshall, 1946) and Key Largo (John Huston, 1948). In the late 1940s, American filmmakers realized the dramatic power that the returning servicemen could add to films that provided a hard look at America. Scholars of film noir have also focused on what has been called a crisis of masculinity that affected men in the postwar era. In this view, film noir protagonists represent male anxiety over changing gender norms, as males in these films are often ineffective protectors and led astray by dominant and deceitful women. In film noir, characters were conflicted over the need to reassert male dominance, often violently, in American society, while at the same time wanting to connect with their families and settle down in communities. By analyzing film noir in the context of

86

SETTLING DOWN

postwar tensions and the gradual solidification of consensus norms, these films can be understood as a reflection of the cultural process that sought to validate soldiers’ misgivings about American society upon their return while at the same time domesticating disgruntled veterans’ challenges to the needs of the postwar nation. In line with some veterans’ criticisms, film noirs often portrayed the nation as a cruel, unforgiving place focused on materialistic concerns. With this nightmare vision of America, film noir validated the soldier’s hesitation to trust society upon his return, questioned consensus notions of a just, unified postwar nation, and challenged his masculine identity.7 Even with its acknowledgment of the nation’s shortcomings in its use of dark themes and images, film noirs featuring veterans also supported the reacclimation project of the home front in order to encourage the country’s fighting men to take up new positions in the postwar nation. Like the civilian advice literature of the immediate postwar era, these films showed sympathy for the alternate views of vets yet still retained strong messages urging veterans to settle down and take up new positions of leadership in society. The veteran protagonist in the majority of these pictures was never able to completely divorce himself from his attachment to communal notions of morality and justice. Though he questioned many aspects of American society, true to civilian advice for the returning soldier the film noir veteran was usually able to overcome his malaise. Often aided by supportive women, veterans in film noir, unlike the stereotype of characters in the genre, usually ended up forsaking a life of uncertainty and danger for one of stability and domestic tranquility. In this way film noir, like the home front advice of the time, offered vets a glimpse of a peaceful future after they put their disenchantment behind them and asserted their status as masculine protectors and leaders. However, as the voices of veteran dissent gradually were silenced with the onset of the consensus culture of the 1950s, the veteran protagonist in film noir gradually disappeared. The alleviation of postwar anxiety and the solidification of consensus norms caused the symbol of the disgruntled vet to lose its dramatic power, and Hollywood began to look beyond the returning veteran for other characters who could represent the antisocial themes that popularized film noir. Reflecting the tensions between the nation’s fighting men and civilians, film noirs featuring veterans often portray postwar society as chaotic and cruel. Instead of returning to a grateful nation, the film noir vet faces difficult challenges in a cold, unfeeling home front. Critic Roger Tailleur nicely summed up the ex-soldiers’ plight in these films: “The heroes, though somewhat dazed, discover a home front reality not markedly

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

87

different from what they imagined when they were fighting overseas: a realm of arbitrariness and corruption, offering impunity to war profiteers, with those appointed to guard the social order either blind or on the take.”8 In many films, veteran characters dramatize some of the concerns of real vets and move through an uncaring home front that brands returning soldiers as a “problem.” For example, The Chase (Arthur Ripley, 1946) begins with vet Chuck Scott (Robert Cummings) wandering city streets, hungry and unemployed. When he finds a wallet full of money, he buys himself a meal, but returns the rest to its rightful owner. The owner laughs at Scott’s honesty, calls him a “silly, law-abiding jerk,” and mockingly offers the vet a medal for his troubles. In Somewhere in the Night (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1946), a hotel manager apologizes to the protagonist for the slow service by stating, “Our bellboys are all out of the army, but they still ain’t convinced they won’t get jobs as bank presidents.” This line highlights the civilian attitude that some veterans wanted too much upon their return from overseas and had unrealistic expectations. In The Long Night (Anatole Litvak, 1947), a member of a crowd watching the police attempt to apprehend an outlaw veteran comments, “Lots of vets go crazy, you know, for no reason at all.” This dialogue found in film noir often helps set the tone of veteran disenchantment and shows the separation of veterans from civilians in postwar society. In The Bribe (Robert Z. Leonard, 1949), a conversation between federal investigator and veteran Rigby (Robert Taylor) and businessman Carwood (Vincent Price) stresses the separation of understanding between former soldiers and civilians. Carwood: Tough to find a good man nowadays. You got to build with the bricks you have. Take a young fellow like yourself for instance. You don’t want to start at the bottom any more. Rigby: Not even in the middle, Carwood. Carwood: You young men. World falling apart and you go fishing. Rigby: The world just got through falling apart. This is that brave new world. The one you guys promised.

Rigby is calling into question the home front’s ability to fulfill its obligation to the men who fought in the war. Although the civilian Carwood is more interested in discussing the difficulties of the postwar era, Rigby is still focused on the war and the expectation that soldiers had upon the completion of their mission. Rigby has little time for Carwood’s complaints about veterans’ ambitions given the sacrifice of soldiers in the war effort.

88

SETTLING DOWN

Although The Bribe portrays Rigby’s discussion as a friendly exchange, film noir vets often show their disgust with different aspects of civilian life that lead them to reject societal norms in favor of the darker side of American life. For example, many film noir vets express disenchantment with slogans of patriotism or the war effort on the home front. Veteran Gagin (Robert Montgomery) in Ride the Pink Horse (Robert Montgomery, 1947) dismisses attempts by a Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) agent to gain his help against a gangster, stating: “Don’t wave any flags at me. I’ve seen enough flags. And I’ve had enough peaces too. They don’t register anymore.” Here Gagin shows his dissatisfaction with the effort to turn his military experience into a patriotic cause. In Crossfire (Edward Dmytryk, 1947), veteran Peter Kelley (Robert Mitchum) discusses murder with police captain Finlay (Robert Young) and offers his own take on his combat experiences. Explaining that his buddy could not have committed a brutal murder, Kelley is skeptical of the valorization of the vet’s military exploits: Peter Kelley: He’s not the type. Captain Finlay: Everybody’s the type. Kelley: He couldn’t kill anybody. Finlay: Could you? Kelley: I have. Finlay: Where? Kelley: Where you get medals for it.

Kelley’s dispassionate description of his war experience and his obvious lack of reverence for military decorations emphasizes the difficulty that many vets felt at accepting the tag of hero placed on them by the home front. These films reflect the type of disenchantment felt by many veterans after the war’s conclusion, and film noir appears to have been one of the different media outlets on the home front that attempted to show empathy for the disgruntled veteran’s critique of society. Film noir vets also had to deal with the rampant home front materialism that ex-soldiers felt infected civilian America. In Ride the Pink Horse and The Bribe, vets confront war profiteers who turned the struggle against Fascism into a money-making venture. Another example of the materialistic home front is found in Thieves’ Highway (Jules Dassin, 1949), in which returning vet Nick Garcos (Richard Conte) takes on a corrupt food wholesaler who has cheated and crippled his produce-trucker father during the soldier’s absence. In addition, returning vets often find

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

89

that their sweethearts have left because of materialistic concerns. Wounded vet Steven Kenet (Robert Taylor) in High Wall (Curtis Bernhardt, 1947) returns to find that his wife Helen (Dorothy Patrick) is working outside the home; her mother tells him, “Money seems important to a young, pretty girl.” Unhappy with this affront to his breadwinner status, Kenet states, “She’ll be through with that when I get there. I’ll see to that.” Kenet catches up with his wife to learn that she is having an affair with her boss who provides her with the material comforts she desires. Another example is found in Undertow (William Castle, 1949), which features the treacherous Sally Lee (Dorothy Hart) who, along with a new boyfriend, frames her vet fiancée for the murder of her uncle so she can take over the family’s criminal enterprises. Detective Story (William Wyler, 1950) also deals with this issue. Returning veteran Arthur Kindred (Craig Hill) is arrested for embezzlement in his attempt to impress his girlfriend who has expensive tastes. In Thieves’ Highway, Nick Garcos is abandoned by his fiancée after she becomes enraged by the fact that he has lost his money to muggers and cannot provide the material things he had promised her. In addition, in Nobody Lives Forever (Jean Negulesco, 1946), veteran Nick Blake (John Garfield) returns from his tour of duty only to find that his girlfriend Toni (Faye Emerson) has cheated him out of money that he had left with her for safekeeping. These films stress the difficulties that film noir vets have in dealing with what they see as rampant home front materialism that has corrupted not only their country but also their loved ones. Because of their inability to integrate into civilian society, film noir veterans are often found in exotic locales far away from their troubles in the United States. Disenchanted vet Bill Saunders (Burt Lancaster) in Kiss the Blood Off My Hands (Norman Foster, 1948) finds himself bitter and disillusioned after the war and stays in England rather than return to the United States. In High Wall, troubled vet Steven Kenet takes a pilot’s job in Asia rather than return home to his wife. Macao (Josef Von Sternberg, 1952) features vet Nick Cochran (Robert Mitchum) who has left America after a conflict with a “red head” led to gunplay and his escape from the authorities. In Saigon (Morris Carnovsky, 1948), Larry Briggs (Alan Ladd) and Pete Rocco (Wally Cassell) remain in the Far East after the war’s conclusion to entertain a war buddy whose wartime injury has left him only a few months to live. Latin America is also a popular destination for the film noir vet. In The Chase, Chuck Scott and his love interest escape to Cuba to elude her gangster husband and his thugs, while

90

SETTLING DOWN

Laurence Gerard in Cornered (Edward Dmytryk, 1945) must travel to Argentina to track down his wife’s killer. The Bribe’s Tug Hintten (John Hodiak) is an alcoholic vet and smuggler living in a Latin American fishing town who is challenged by vet turned federal investigator, Rigby (Robert Taylor). These stories set outside the United States use the expatriation of the veteran to highlight his withdrawal from home front society. Another dramatic representation of the disgruntled veteran’s separation from civilian society is the large number of film noirs that focus on returning soldiers and amnesia. Given the number of film noirs dealing with a veteran character and memory loss, film noir and amnesia in the postwar era can almost make up its own film genre. Movies such as Cornered, The Blue Dahlia, Somewhere in the Night, The Chase, The Guilty (John Reinhardt, 1947), The High Wall, The Clay Pigeon (Richard Fleischer, 1949), and The Crooked Way (Robert Florey, 1949) all feature veteran protagonists who suffer from total memory loss or periodic bouts of amnesia. It is not surprising that Hollywood used this scenario so often in the postwar era and attributed characters’ amnesia to war wounds. During and after the war, the major media outlets repeatedly published pieces about wounded veterans and their attempts to reacclimate into society. In particular, veterans who suffered psychological wounds were fascinating to the general public. Psychologists and other experts published guides to dealing with the psychologically injured veteran, introducing Americans to the idea that battle scars were not always visible. In addition, psychology was becoming popular in postwar Hollywood, and screenwriters were increasingly using psychological theories for story ideas and creating characters that were mental health professionals.9 A good example of this type of film is Somewhere in the Night, whose main character is a veteran amnesiac who return home to the United States in search of his past. Soldier George Taylor (John Hodiak) awakens in a military hospital bed to find that a grenade has robbed him of all memory of his former self. In retracing his steps he finds a note from a “friend,” Larry Cravat, who has left him a large amount of money. Taylor’s hunt for Cravat reveals that his mysterious friend was deeply involved in the robbery of two million dollars and a murder, and Taylor has to stay one step ahead of the police and criminals who are also looking for the money. In the end, Taylor learns that he is Cravat and was a private investigator who, after discovering the money, enlisted in the army to hide from his pursuers. For a period, Taylor is convinced that he committed murder in his past life as Cravat. But with the help of his love

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

91

interest Christy (Nancy Guild), Taylor discovers where he had hidden the money, turns it over to the police, and brings the real murderer to justice. In the end, Taylor makes up for his misdeeds as Larry Cravat and hints at marriage to Christy. Like other film noir vets suffering from amnesia, Taylor is forced by physical ailment to be an outsider in American society. The film noir vet’s amnesia can be viewed as a dramatic depiction of the returning servicemen’s inability to reconcile the mental scars of his military experience with life in postwar America. Amnesia caused by the war has robbed these men of their memories, and, without their ability to remember a civilian past, they struggle to reconnect with the home front. Their entire identity is tied to their experience of the war, and they consequently lack the ability to reintegrate with American society. It is only through their perseverance and the acceptance of aid from caring civilians that the amnesiac vet can understand his past and create a stable future. In this way, film noir mirrored the advice of civilians that urged vets to attempt to come to terms with their new identities and work through their adjustment difficulties with the aid of their loved ones and the nation at large. After a period of restlessness and soul searching, the veteran would eventually settle down and look forward to starting a new postwar life. Amnesia was not the only legacy of the war that film noir vets had to contend with in order to find a sense of stability. They also needed to right injustices committed during the war before they could hope to settle down. In Edward Dmytryk’s Cornered, veteran Gerard (Dick Powell) travels to Argentina to hunt down the collaborator who was responsible for his French wife’s murder by the Nazis, and The Clay Pigeon’s Jim Fletcher (Bill Williams) clears himself of collaboration charges by revealing the identity of another soldier who worked with a corrupt Japanese prison camp guard. The most powerful film focused on this theme is Fred Zinnemann’s Act of Violence (1949). Crippled veteran Joe Parkson (Robert Ryan) stalks his former air force comrade, Frank Enley (Van Heflin), because he knows that Enley informed their German captors of an escape plan while both were prisoners of war. Their entire unit except for Parkson was killed in the attempt, and the wounded vet takes it upon himself to dispense belated justice. Although the limping, vengeful Parkson is a stark portrayal of a veteran’s inability to cope with the war, the supposedly well-adjusted Enley also has to fight his own inner demons. Even though he has built a secure home life with his wife and child and worked as the engineer of a housing complex that will aid vets

92

SETTLING DOWN

with the postwar housing shortage, Enley’s disgust with himself comes through when confronted with his past. Explaining his betrayal of his comrades, Enley tries to justify his actions, but even he begins to doubt his own story as he recounts his reasoning. Finally, when his wife tries to absolve him of his crime by stating he had justification for his actions, he responds, “Even the Nazis had reasons.” Clearly the postwar stability that Enley creates following his military life cannot remove the stain of his war experience. In addition to coming to terms with their military pasts, former servicemen are often on a mission to fulfill promises to war buddies and display bonds of loyalty with the men with whom they served. In The Guilty, vet Mike Carr (Don Castle) rooms with his former lieutenant, Johnny Dixon (Wally Cassell). Johnny has mental injuries from the war and suffers from periodic blackouts. Coupled with his failure to land a steady job and frequent womanizing, Johnny is a difficult roommate, but one whom Mike feels responsible for, saying “Well, I guess that’s the way it is with guys who’ve been in a war together. You put up with a lot of things without knowing why.” Saigon focuses on three friends who served together in the Pacific theater. Although the three are from different socioeconomic backgrounds, they have formed a fast friendship during their time in combat. Of their relationship, Larry Briggs states, “Four years in a bomber together, you get to know each other pretty much.” Upon learning that one of the vets has only a few months to live due to a head injury, Briggs and his friend Pete Rocco decide to pack fun and excitement into the little time their friend has remaining. They even go so far as to coerce beautiful Susan Cleaver (Veronica Lake) into accepting their friend’s amorous advances. In their move back to the home front, vets are typically drawn into conflicts to help friends and family who have been brutalized by a corrupt America. In Key Largo, vet Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart) must shake off his disillusionment in order to save a war buddy’s family from gangsters, while Thieves’ Highway has Nick Garcos fighting crooks who swindled his father while Garcos was in the service. More typically, vets in film noir are looking to avenge the slaying of a war buddy in civilian life. Film noirs depict the strong sense of camaraderie as the motivation behind the vet protagonist’s entry into worlds of crime and danger. Dead Reckoning (John Cromwell, 1947), Ride the Pink Horse, The Clay Pigeon, Between Midnight and Dawn (Douglas, 1950), and I, the Jury all play on variations of this theme.

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

93

The pain suffered by vets as they attempt to reconcile their military experience with their difficulties on the home front would seem to naturally create the type of hostile veteran feared by civilians. One of the bleakest of the film noirs that features a veteran protagonist is In a Lonely Place (Nicolas Ray, 1950). The film focuses on the character of Dixon Steele (Humphrey Bogart), a veteran and Hollywood screenwriter who finds himself at the center of a murder investigation. From the beginning, Dix seethes with pent up aggression from his artistic temperament and stalled career. He enters into a fistfight with the nephew of a studio executive after the man insults a down-and-out actor. This act, despite its violence, draws sympathy from the audience because the veteran protects someone who cannot defend himself. Even if Dix lives his life on the edge, in this case he uses his anger in defense of a friend in need. This type of act appears to live up to civilian prescriptions for veterans that asked them to return to their communities and be protectors and leaders. Unfortunately, Dix does not direct his anger at more deserving targets in the film. After a young woman ends up dead after being seen with Dix the night before, a police investigation led by his army buddy Brub (Frank Lovejoy) begins to place increased pressure on the already volatile writer. In the course of the film, he brutally attacks a motorist with whom he has an accident and his loyal manager after a disagreement about a script. The film also alludes to a previous affair in which Dix beat his girlfriend. Dix is hostile to authority, taunting the police chief who brings him in for questioning, and he makes a scene as he leaves a restaurant when he believes the police are following him. All the while he is supported by his girlfriend Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame), a neighbor who provides Dix with an alibi and eventually falls in love with him. As Dix’s violence becomes increasingly apparent, Laurel begins to doubt his innocence and make plans to leave him. Finally, he attempts to apologize for his violent episodes but uncovers her plans to leave. It appears that he will brutalize Laurel for this supposed betrayal. Dix is snapped out of his rage by a phone call from the police, explaining that he has been found innocent of the murder, but it is too late. The film ends with Dix leaving Laurel’s apartment for the last time and losing his chance at happiness. Dix is surrounded by friends, has a job he enjoys, and finds a supportive woman, but he is unable to control his impulsive anger. He is the veteran who cannot settle down and join the community. Although he is not a murderer, Dix is a grim characterization of the disillusioned vet, still at war with the world even after the fighting has stopped.

94

SETTLING DOWN

In a Lonely Place’s negative end is not typical of film noirs featuring veterans, however. As bleak as the home front sometimes appears in film noir, the conclusions of most of these films featuring vets have, surprisingly for the genre, happy endings for the ex-servicemen. Critics have used the troubled antiheroes of films such as Double Indemnity to type film noir’s tone as one of moral ambiguity, but movies featuring veterans often take great pains to make their heroes look more wholesome than the average nihilistic film noir protagonist. Though veterans were shown to have serious psychological problems and difficulties integrating into society, the film noir vets are rarely shown to be unsympathetic, violent aggressors that some advice literature from the postwar period suggested they could become. Even in Brute Force (Jules Dassin, 1947), which takes a gritty look at violent prison life, the audience learns that the veteran inmate appropriately named “Soldier” (Howard Duff) has been imprisoned because he nobly took the blame for a murder committed by his girlfriend. In a Lonely Place does feature the antisocial vet Dixon Steele, but this image of the raging veteran is tempered by Dix’s solid, welladjusted war buddy turned cop, Brub. Likewise, Crossfire and The Clay Pigeon show unsympathetic portraits of murderous veterans, but they are brought to justice with the help of other veterans, blunting the negative portrayals of all servicemen. Of the films I surveyed, only The Guilty, which features a veteran turned murderer brought to justice by civilian authority, provides a completely stark view of former soldiers. On the whole, Hollywood appears to have been hesitant to portray the nation’s returning heroes as completely antisocial, maladjusted, or psychologically damaged, even in the dark movies during film noir’s classic period. This is not for a lack of trying by the makers of at least one picture. In The Blue Dahlia, screenwriter and hard-boiled fiction author Raymond Chandler originally wanted a veteran suffering from amnesia to be the killer. Buzz Wanchek (William Bendix) is a wounded veteran with a “plate in his head” who returns to the United States with pal Johnny Morrison and another friend. Early in the picture, the audience learns that Wanchek is prone to violence because of his injury, as the playing of loud music out of a bar’s jukebox causes Wanchek’s head to throb and almost leads to a physical confrontation with a soldier. After Morrison’s unfaithful wife is murdered, Wanchek suffers a bout of amnesia on the night in question, becomes a suspect, and dramatically attempts to remember his whereabouts. In the original screenplay, Wanchek is the killer, and the story ends with his friends hoping that he will never recover his memory of the incident. However, military officials intervened, and the studio did not want

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

95

to alienate the armed forces or vets with an unflattering portrait of a violently disturbed veteran. The actual film ends rather unexpectedly with a house detective being the murderer, while the powerful scene with Wanchek trying to recover his memory becomes anticlimactic at best.10 This desire to help veterans settle down can explain why studios created so many pictures in which the disgruntled serviceman puts aside his disillusionment or indifference and ends up defending American society, its laws, or its sense of morality. Far from being an antihero, many film noir vets give up their troubled pasts and jaded attitudes in order to protect their fellow citizens from harm. Just as veterans had saved the free world from the forces of Fascism, the disgruntled film noir veteran has to overcome his personal animus to an uncaring home front and defend his community once again. The film noir veteran’s eventual defense of community fit in well with postwar prescriptions for soldiers’ roles in American society. Veterans were to receive a period of adjustment to try and figure out their future, deal with their antisocial feelings, and understand their place in the postwar era. After coming to terms with their military experience, veterans would then reenter their communities and take up positions as the leaders and protectors of society just as they had done on the battlefield. For many film noir vets, the process of reacclimation meant a difficult path back to the democratic ideals for which they supposedly fought during the war. Directed by and starring veteran Robert Montgomery, Ride the Pink Horse features the dramatic redemption of a disgruntled World War II veteran. Even though his army pal Shorty has been killed by gangster Frank Hugo (Fred Clark), war veteran Gagin attempts to blackmail Hugo for his own gain rather than give his information to FBI agent Retz. When he confronts Hugo, the gangster attempts to play on Gagin’s disenchantment with civilian society: “You and me we eat out of the same dish. You used to think that if you were a square guy, worked hard, played on the level things would come your way. You found out you were wrong. All you get is pushed around. You find that people are interested in one thing—the pay off.” Here Hugo epitomizes the materialism that many disgruntled veterans felt typified the home front, and, despite his reservations about society, Gagin wishes to be part of it. After Hugo has Gagin beaten, Retz enters to arrest Hugo, but the gangster still tries to convince the disgruntled veteran to turn on society: “[Retz] is going to give you a lot of gas about duty and honor. Fill you with fancy words like responsibility and patriotism.” But Gagin rejects Hugo’s manipulation and sides with the authorities in bringing the criminal to justice. Although for a time

96

SETTLING DOWN

Gagin looks like the type of veteran some civilians feared would be easily swayed by corrupt elements of society, he finally realizes that he must again work for the protection of America and its need for order. In Slattery’s Hurricane (Andre de Toth, 1949), Will Slattery (Richard Widmark) is a troubled vet who flies narcotics for drug smugglers and also carries on an affair with his war buddy’s wife. During the war, Slattery had performed heroically in one particular air battle but was passed over for commendation because his commanding officer had disciplined him for breaking ranks to engage the enemy. Angry at society, Slattery falls in with criminals and also strings along a coworker, Dolores, who loves him. Meeting up with an old flying buddy who works for the weather service, he learns his friend is married to a former love and ends up having an affair. When Slattery belatedly receives a medal for heroism during the war, he initially is despondent over his involvement with criminals and his affair. When Dolores confronts a drunken Slattery, he mocks his medal by saying, “Heads or tails, it spins.” After his affair is exposed and Dolores is institutionalized for drug abuse, Slattery rediscovers his sense of duty and informs the police of the narcotics operation, ends his affair, and volunteers to replace his war buddy as the pilot on a dangerous mission that flies into a hurricane in order to provide needed weather information. He even ends up reenlisting, which is further evidence of his revived commitment to defending society. In the film noir veteran’s quest for redemption or meaning in the postwar world, the most frequent source of sympathy and aid is usually the protagonist’s love interest. In the majority of film noirs featuring vets, “faithful” women provide the opportunity for salvation and the hope that the vet can be integrated into American society. The leading women in these films are the type of companions envisioned by much of the advice literature for women on how to deal with returning veterans. Caring, patient, and loyal, they are able to help their men deal with their past and construct new futures as solid members of the community. But these women who nurture the returning veteran also challenge the veteran to live up to his role as stable family man and protector. The portrayal of women in these movies is in direct contrast to the more familiar film noir image of the femme fatale. Much of the scholarship on women and film noir has focused on this dangerous and sexually aggressive character. Some critics have linked the prevalence of the femme fatale in film noir with the need to domesticate women in order to counter the threat that they posed to male dominance. Like women workers who threatened returning servicemen’s hopes for postwar

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

97

employment, the femme fatale challenges the veteran’s masculine role in American society as she fails to live up to the standards set up by both vets and civilians. With her scheming and materialistic nature, and her overt sexuality and use of violence, the femme fatale oversteps postwar gender boundaries to intrude upon veterans’ masculinity. Instead of being the compassionate women who aid their men in the reacclimation process, these women actively subvert veterans’ attempts to stabilize their lives and fail to provide the support vets need to become productive members of the community.11 The femme fatale does make appearances in some film noirs featuring vets. In Dead Reckoning, veteran Rip Murdock (Humphrey Bogart) attempts to hunt down the killer of his war buddy with the help of his pal’s girlfriend, Coral Chandler (Lizabeth Scott), only to learn that she had set up his friend’s untimely demise. Using her cunning and sexual allure to confound Murdock at every turn, this femme fatale challenges Murdock to the point where he repeatedly tells her that he wishes he could shrink her and put her in his pocket. Rip’s need to control her is also fueled by his confusion and mistrust as he enters a world of blackmailing schemes and criminals in order to flush out the killer. Coral’s manipulation has Murdock chasing other suspects and overlooking evidence that points to her guilt. Eventually, Murdock unravels the crime, and though he has fallen for his friend’s killer, he mortally wounds her in a car accident in an attempt to bring her to justice. When asked how he could turn his back on his love, Murdock replies, “I loved him more,” a testament to the commitment that the veteran felt for his murdered comrade. Here the bond of friendship between men overcomes even the promise of the love of a woman.12 This final scene is also echoed in the ending to I, The Jury. Just as in Dead Reckoning, vet Mike Hammer (Biff Elliot) falls in love with the killer of his closest friend from the service. Based on the enormously popular Mickey Spillane novel, private eye Hammer is the hypermasculine dispenser of a renegade brand of two-fisted justice. With his over-the-top, tough-guy lines, Hammer is almost a parody of the film noir detective— a rootless outsider who plays by his own rules. In this case, the private eye must find the murderer of a war buddy who lost an arm taking a bayonet meant for Hammer on the battlefield. Hammer eventually meets up with beautiful psychologist Charlotte Manning (Peggie Castle), who aggressively pursues Hammer, and they begin a love affair. But Hammer pieces the puzzle together and learns that Charlotte is the real killer. In the final scene, Hammer slays his love, and when asked by his victim how he could

98

SETTLING DOWN

do so, he famously responds, “It was easy.” The sense of purpose and apparent ease with which Hammer and Murdock are able to kill supposed love ones reflect themes of duty and comradeship that exist even after the vet’s return home. It is the male bonding created by the wartime experience that trumps promises of love and money, and violence becomes an acceptable option with which to subdue the femme fatale. These aggressive, unrepentant women are controlled and punished through the strength of masculine camaraderie created through shared military experiences. In meeting a violent end, the femme fatale is no longer a threat to society or to the vets’ masculine identities. In this way, she is a cautionary figure for those women who hoped to subvert the postwar gender hierarchy. The femme fatale is the most well-known image of women in film noir, but in movies featuring veterans the more common negative female characters are unfaithful girlfriends or wives. Not as deadly as the femme fatale, these women still represent unacceptable behavior on the home front. Refusing to stick by their men, the unfaithful wife undercuts the stability of American family and society by not submitting to the authority of their veteran boyfriends or husbands. As described earlier, many of these women are motivated by material concerns in their decisions to betray their love interests. But these women are guilty of even greater transgressions against home front prescriptions for women by entering into sexual relationships while their veteran lovers are defending the nation. Toni in Nobody Lives Forever, Helen in The High Wall, and Sally in Undertow all engage in relationships with other men and, in the process, hinder the readjustment of the nation’s servicemen. Similar to the femme fatale’s challenge of aggressive sexuality, the unfaithful woman erodes patriarchal control by dealing the soldier’s masculine identity a crippling blow with an illicit affair. In The Bribe, veteran Rigby justifies his failure to settle down and his seduction of married women because of the infidelity of his home front sweetheart: “She didn’t wait. She didn’t wait several times.” Vets were looking to go back and start stable home lives but were worried about changing gender roles on the home front and about their sweetheart’s chastity. These films serve as a worst-case scenario as the women whom veterans trust the most to be supportive and loyal are discovered to be immoral and sexually subversive to their masculinity. Perhaps the best and most wicked portrayal of the unfaithful woman back home is Helen Morrison (Doris Dowling) in The Blue Dahlia. Upon his return home, Johnny Morrison (real-life veteran Alan Ladd) returns to his civilian life and finds out how truly cruel the home front can be.

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

99

Entering his wife’s home, he finds a lively party going on and learns that his wife has been unfaithful to him with a nightclub owner. After losing his temper at the party, Johnny apologizes, but is taunted by Helen who replies, “Apologize, darling? But you don’t have to. You’re a hero, and heroes can get away with anything.” Here Helen is the personification of the unsympathetic home front, not only lacking respect for Johnny but also actually ridiculing his heroism. Later, when they have a violent confrontation over Helen’s drinking, and he throws her drink on the floor, she accuses him of being prone to violence, stating “Maybe you’ve learned to like hurting people.” Helen uses all the elements of the negative stereotype of the violent, vengeful veteran to torment her husband. Finally, Johnny again confronts Helen and learns that during his absence their child perished in a car accident with a drunken Helen at the wheel. This is too much for Johnny, and he pulls out a gun intending to shoot her. After looking at her and suffering her abuse, Johnny leaves, dismissing her with “you’re not worth it.” With her rampant sexuality, hedonistic lifestyle, rejection of motherhood, and unsympathetic attitude toward her husband, Helen is the returning veteran’s nightmare. Her inability or unwillingness to subscribe to the role of the chaste waiting wife or caring mother truly makes her “worthless” to veterans and to an American society that demanded these qualities in a soldier’s wife. Her brazen flouting of Johnny’s authority as husband and father and her debasement of her husband’s military sacrifice and heroism make her character the fulfillment of many veterans’ fears of changing gender norms on the home front. Like the punishment of the femme fatale, Helen’s eventual murder can serve as a warning to women who would undercut the reacclimation of veterans by challenging prescribed gender roles. The femme fatale and the unfaithful woman are the female images most associated with film noir, but these portrayals are often overshadowed in movies featuring veterans by the prevalence of women who aid in the soldier’s reacclimation. Termed the “nurturing” or “redemptive” woman” by critics, these characters are the opposite of the femme fatale and offer “the possibility of integration for the alienated, lost man into the stable world of secure values, roles and identities.”13 Films such as Dead Reckoning and I, the Jury, with their portrayal of femme fatales and violent, morally ambiguous endings, appear to be more stereotypical film noirs. However, most film noirs featuring vets reject these types of characterizations and conclusions in favor of more positive plot lines that stress the importanc e of stable, long-term relationships after the film’s conflict has been resolved. Not only do film noir veterans usually uphold

100

SETTLING DOWN

communal norms, but also they adhere to societal notions of responsibility by entering into probable long-term relationships with the women who help them. Critic Deborah Thomas has taken issue with the “redemptive woman” in film noir and finds her to be as much of a threat to the hero’s masculinity as the femme fatale. Thomas writes that the anxiety faced by men in the postwar era was due not only to changing gender norms but also to the expectations placed upon them by the “status quo.” Men needed to settle down, and that meant giving up “close male companionship, sanctioned killing, and easier, more casual sexual behavior.” Thomas writes that “women . . . may represent not only the projected dangers of rejecting ‘normality’ but the oppressiveness of embracing it as well.” Using examples from film noir such as Dead Reckoning and I, the Jury in which men use all means to escape from domesticity, Thomas concludes that film noir subverts family stability just as the threat of the femme fatale seemed to buttress it Although the femme fatale might serve as a warning to men who step outside of their normal lives, the normality represented by the redemptive woman has its pitfalls. The challenge of changing gender roles on the home front may have caused soldiers’ anxiety in film noir, but soldiers were also reluctant to return to “normal” lives. Nurturing women are a possible threat to the rebellious aspects of the film noir veteran’s masculine identity, forcing him to “settle down” and live a monogamous life of increased responsibility.14 Women were supposed to aid in the reacclimation of veterans, and this meant at least some acceptance of aspects of society with which they did not agree. But the film noir veteran’s relationship to the nurturing woman is complex. Like actual vets, veterans in film noir often express the desire to settle down with women in opposition to living a life on society’s edge. Rip Murdock and Mike Hammer may be more typical of film noir protagonists, but their rejection of stable relationships with women in favor of a more independent yet dangerous existence is at odds with the majority of pictures featuring former soldiers. Vets in these films seem willing to give up violence and their outsider status if they can maintain a relationship with their supportive women. For the film noir veteran, his masculine identity is tied more to creating a stable relationship than with ensuring his sexual freedom. In this way, film noir that featured veterans did not subvert the home front project of encouraging vets to start families but instead provided examples of troubled soldiers who were able to find their desired security through the aid of supportive female characters.

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

101

For example, in Somewhere in the Night, amnesiac vet and former shady private eye George Taylor speaks for the feelings of many disenchanted veterans, but the film also has a theme of hope for even the most disillusioned serviceman. Even as Taylor claims that he can make a new life for himself by running from his problems, his love interest Christy counters that the road of disillusionment would only bring him happiness if he can “leave yourself alone and not ask yourself questions.” By not letting George cut himself off from the world and her, Christy offers George hope that he can recover his past and look forward to a brighter future. Later, when George despairs that as Cravat he may be a murderer, Christy tells him that he is now a good person and that “Three years of war can change a man.” Here Christy believes that far from having negative effects, the war’s transformative powers may actually be positive. In the end, George repeats this line when he tells a police officer that he has no wish to return to his life as a private detective. Apparently three years of war and Christy’s love have convinced him to give up his former life on the margins of society. The film ends with Taylor having solved the problems of his past and settling down in a new life of wedded bliss with Christy. Even criminal vets who are looking for stability can be transformed by the women who love them. Undertow’s Tony Reagan (Scott Brady) is a former criminal trying to go straight after his discharge from the army. Framed for murder, he enlists the aid of recent acquaintance Ann McKnight (Peggy Dow) to prove his innocence. They eventually expose the real killers and Ann and Tony look forward to a future together. In Hoodlum Empire (Joseph Kane, 1952), former mob man Joe Gray (John Russell) returns from the fighting in Europe a changed man and, with the aid of his war buddies and his supportive wife, is able to turn his back on his criminal past. On the run from the law, Macao vet Nick Cochran finds a kindred spirit in love interest Julie Benson (Jane Russell), another lost soul who has worked numerous jobs in different countries “looking for something.” Nick confides in Julie that he has been offered a job as a plantation manager but has turned it down out of fear of loneliness. When Julie expresses interest in hard work and stability, Nick finds someone who will help him end his aimless ways, and he can look forward to settling down with Julie and a good job. Before they can begin their new life together, Nick helps international authorities bring a crime boss to justice, thereby atoning for his earlier criminal actions. In the end, Nick can begin his desired life of domestic tranquility free from the taint of his past.

102

SETTLING DOWN

Another example can be found in Nobody Lives Forever. Nick Blake is a veteran and con man who returns to America after the war looking for new opportunities to make easy money. He sets out to woo wealthy widow Gladys Halvorsen (Geraldine Fitzgerald) for her fortune but ends up falling in love with her. After a visit to a mission reminds Nick of his military experience in Italy, he reaches out to Gladys to help him sort through his feelings: Nick Blake: Maybe I forgot about what I saw too easy. It’s too bad people can’t get along. The world is a pretty nice place if you’re happy. Gladys Halvorsen: Are you happy? Nick: I wasn’t. Gladys: When? Nick: ‘Til I met you.

After this admission, Nick realizes his love for Gladys and dismantles his scheme. As Nick tries to nobly leave town before any harm can come to her, Gladys learns of Nick’s past and confronts him. He attempts to convince her that they are ill suited for each other and when she says that he has changed from his former self, he coldly replies, “People like me don’t change.” Nick could easily push Gladys away, but it takes little coaxing from her to convince him that he wants to stay with her and give up his life of crime. After thwarting a kidnap attempt by Nick’s former partners, the couple is able to begin their life together. The theme of women redeeming the criminal veteran is most dramatically told in Kiss the Blood Off My Hands and The Long Night. Both protagonist veterans of these films have committed murder, but through the dedication of the women who love them they look for acceptance within the community from which they have alienated themselves. In Kiss the Blood Off My Hands, American veteran Bill Saunders accidentally kills a London pub owner in a dispute and is on the run from the law. Hiding in the room of Jane Wharton (Joan Fontaine), Saunders falls in love with her and works at her health clinic but is soon blackmailed into stealing drugs by a criminal who witnessed Saunders’s previous crime. When the couple is implicated in the blackmailer’s death, they plan to flee the country, but Bill plans to use drugs from the clinic to fund their departure. When Jane learns of Bill’s plan, she confronts him and his violent, negative view of the world. She says, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong—you’re a coward. What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be decent? Why can’t you be like everybody else? You’re nothing but a deep, vicious bully.” Bill

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

103

implores Jane to come with him, and attempts to justify his theft of needed medical supplies: “Nobody gives anybody a break. Not me anyway. Run, run, run. Always run from my old man. Run from the kids I hurt in school. That’s why I didn’t mind the army. When you hit you didn’t have to run. Everybody’s against you. Everybody!” Here the audience understands Bill as the type of veteran many on the home front feared— violent, aggressive, disgruntled, and self-obsessed. Although Jane does not want to see herself or Bill go to jail, his desperate actions violate her notions of community responsibility and morality. By setting himself up as a societal outsider, Bill ensures a path that will mean losing Jane. In the end, through the example of her social conscience she is able to convince Bill to go to the authorities and face his crimes. He subsumes his earlier desire for independence and self-preservation to the need for order in the community. The impulses that have led him to live an unfulfilled existence encourage him to look for alternatives in the effort to find solace. As urged by the literature at the time, the stability of family and a virtuous woman encourages a troubled vet to join society and adhere to communal norms, even at the possible price of his freedom. The movie ends with Bill having at least some hope in his fellow citizens where there was little before: “Someone will listen. Someone will say it wasn’t all our fault. Maybe they’ll give us a break. Maybe they won’t. We’ll see.” This is not Bill subsuming his masculine identity to domesticity, but Bill’s willingness to give up his past ways seem to lead him to a new sense of self.15 This new identity centers more on taking responsibility for his actions and attempting to carve out a new relationship with Jane, which are hallmarks of a masculine ideal that was supported by civilian authorities and veterans. Another good example of the ability of a faithful woman to help save a disgruntled vet can be found in The Long Night. Veteran Joe Adams (Henry Fonda) is holed up in an apartment, surrounded by police who are attempting to arrest him for the murder of a villainous magician who had designs on his love interest Jo Ann (Barbara Bel Geddes). Throughout the film, the audience learns through flashbacks that in his conversations with Jo Ann, Joe is continually crying out for acceptance and understanding from his girlfriend and the community. In front of a billboard reading “Peace and Prosperity,” Joe laments his lack of direction and promises Jo Ann that if she will believe in him that he will be able to fulfill her emotional and material needs. Here Joe is stating the needs of many returning vets—wanting a stable marital life along with a good job. His love for Jo Ann has inspired this veteran to look for a more

104

SETTLING DOWN

stable lifestyle and to attempt to move beyond his working-class origins to improve his economic standing. Unfortunately for Joe, he has to contend with the villainous magician Maximilian (Vincent Price) for Jo Ann’s affections. In their confrontations, the audience can feel the class tensions between the suitors. Joe is the typical working-class hero, but Maximilian appears to be the well-bred, upper-class cad who looks down at his rival’s humble origins. Maximilian questions Joe’s ability to live up to his role as masculine provider for Jo Ann by degrading Joe’s potential to obtain wealth and status in the future. Although this challenge to his masculinity leads Joe to make threats of violence, he is finally drawn into a deadly confrontation with Maximilian by another blow to Joe’s sense of gender identity. In another effort to split Jo Ann and Joe apart, Maximilian implies to Joe that the magician and Jo Ann had engaged in sexual relations. This devastating attack on Joe’s masculine identity, namely the failure to safeguard the chastity of his future wife, proves too much for Joe to bear. In an attempt to reclaim his sense of manhood, Joe lashes out and kills Maximilian, using the violent tendencies that had served him well as a soldier. In safeguarding his masculine identity, Joe becomes a hostile outsider in society, on the wrong side of the law and cut off from his community. The sudden collapse of Joe’s dream of success makes the film’s portrayal of the police stand off even more tragic. Director Anatole Litvak focuses on a statue of a Civil War veteran and then flashes to police snipers on the surrounding rooftops, combining the heroic image of past soldiers with Joe’s current predicament. When a crowd surrounds Joe’s building to watch, he expresses his discontent with civilian society: “Pretty exciting stuff, huh? A murderer. A killer. Thought I was all through with killing. Had no use for it. Hated it. Maybe even more than you. Well, here I am. You ever seen a killer before? I seen plenty and plenty killed. Lots of murderers around. All kinds of them. And lots of ways of getting killed. Everybody kills a little bit quiet like when nobody knows.” Litvak further dramatizes veteran alienation when the police try to storm Joe’s room, and they shoot holes in his service uniform.16 After failing to convince the police that Joe just needs understanding, Jo Ann slips past the police barricades to confront Joe. Although supportive of Joe, she also challenges him to give himself up and look to the community that loves him for support. In the crowd, many of Joe’s coworkers have called on him to surrender peacefully, and Jo Ann encourages him to give up his belief that he is alone in the world. She confronts him stating, “You wanted people to accept you for what you are; to have faith in

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

105

you. Well, but then you have to have faith in them.” Instead of living the life of an outsider, the veteran must give in to communal norms if he is ever to find peace. Finally, Joe gives in to her pleas and chooses her love and the acceptance of the community over a violent shootout with the authorities. Through her commitment, Jo Ann has reintegrated her veteran back into society and away from violence and disillusionment. Unlike the French film Le Jour Se Leve on which it is based, The Long Night ends on an upbeat note with Joe telling a coworker, “Yeah, I think we’re just about gonna make it.” The audience is left with the feeling that Joe may be absolved of his crime due to the support he receives from the crowd. Again, Hollywood seemed reticent to create a film about veterans without some sense of redemption in the end. Not all the women who help the veteran in film noir are portraits of chaste purity found in Kiss the Blood Off My Hands or The Long Night. Drunken gun moll Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor) helps Frank McCloud stop the mobsters in Key Largo, but there is no romance between the two. In Thieves’ Highway, Nick Garcos is aided by an Italian prostitute, Rica (Valentina Cortese), whom he eventually romances. Macao’s Julie Benson is a sexy, worldly cabaret singer who helps straighten out vet Nick Cochran, and Veronica Lake plays mysterious but understanding women in The Blue Dahlia and Saigon. In the latter, her character initially is hesitant to help a “maladjusted GI,” but she eventually shows herself to be a caring and supportive woman. These female characters find the potential of long-term relationships with the veteran protagonists, but other women do not end up with the film noir hero. In Hoodlum Empire, Joe Gray’s former mob girlfriend Connie Williams (Claire Trevor) reflects the naivete and misunderstanding of vets by the home front when she tells the recently returned serviceman that “You’re going to forget there ever was a war.” Rejected in favor of the wife he met in the European theater, Connie painfully declares, “I blame it on the war, like everybody does about everything now.” In the end, she remains faithful to Joe and is killed by mobsters after informing on the gang in order to save his life. In Ride the Pink Horse, Mexican waif Pila (Wanda Hendrix) follows Gagin around and aids him in his efforts, but he actually confuses her with his dead pal Shorty after he is brutally beaten and never moves toward more than a strange friendship. These movies show that women need not be idealized women of virtue or the objects of a veteran’s affections to aid the vet in his quest for redemption. As stated in the advice literature of the time, all citizens were needed to aid the servicemen in his reintegration with civilian life, and all women could help veterans work through

106

SETTLING DOWN

any crisis of masculinity following the war and help them settle down in postwar America. Even as the uncaring home front is an important theme in veteran film noirs, filmmakers also demonstrated that there were those on the home front who wished to help veterans in their readjustment and really wanted to understand their problems. Detective Story features a police detective and father of a dead soldier, Lou Brody (William Bendix), trying to convince a hard-nosed colleague to go easy on a young veteran picked up for embezzlement. In an effort to highlight the sacrifice made by the former soldier, Brody states, “This kid took chances for us. Shouldn’t we take chances for him?” In Ride the Pink Horse, FBI agent Bill Retz (Art Smith) tries to convince revenge-minded veteran Gagin from taking on a gangster who has defrauded the government and killed Gagin’s army buddy. In a passionate appeal, Retz tries to show Gagin that he understands where the vet is coming from: “You’re like the rest of the boys. You’re all gussed up because you fought a war for three years and got nothing out of it but a dangled ribbon. Why don’t you let your Uncle Samuel take care of it?” Here Retz tries to convince Gagin that his quest for retribution might be based on the alienation that he is feeling because of the war and that the government is actually a better instrument for dispensing justice. Boomerang! also highlights examples of home front sympathy (Elia Kazan, 1947). In this drama, a drifter/veteran is accused of murdering a local priest, and the district attorney questions the man’s guilt. At first, a psychologist interrogates the suspect, John Waldron (Arthur Kennedy), and comes up with a firm theory based on understandings of the disenchanted veteran: “You were sick of the black market. You were tired of being pushed around. You were tired of handouts and advice. You resented the people with good jobs and money when you came out of the army with nothing. . . . You took that gun with the idea of getting even. When you saw [the priest] on the street you made him the personification of every handout and every word of advice and in a rage you shot him.” Here the psychologist is expressing commonly held beliefs about the dangers of returning veterans and their supposed tendency to gravitate to revenge, bitterness, crime, and violence. But the district attorney, Henry L. Harvey (Dana Andrews), interviews the suspect, finds him troubled, and remains skeptical of the man’s guilt. Waldron states that he just wanted to find a good job upon his return, but could not find work to suit him:

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

107

John Waldron: Look, mister, I put in five years in the army. five years. That puts me five years behind the parade. I didn’t want to pump gas or hustle trucks. I wanted to get moving. I got a lot of catching up to do. Harvey: You’ve got to start somewhere. Waldron: You get anxious, you understand. You got to get moving. You can’t wait. I’m no kid anymore.

Even as Harvey questions Waldron’s expectations for success, he attempts to understand the veteran’s plight. Harvey eventually dismantles the state’s case against Waldron because he believes in the veteran’s innocence. In the end, Harvey’s faith in Waldron inspires the vet to let go of his bitterness and start becoming a productive member of the community. When asked about his plans, Waldron replies, “I’ll get something going. It’s about time, don’t you think.” The sympathy that Harvey has shown this veteran has helped to cure him of his alienation and allowed him to think about settling down in a career. Another moving discussion about the problems of veterans is found in Crossfire. Upon his return home, soldier Arthur Mitchell (George A. Cooper) has problems with his wife and goes to a bar with some of his fellow soldiers. Seeing Mitchell looking dejected, Joseph Samuels approaches Mitchell and attempts to get to the heart of the vet’s readjustment problems: It’s worse at night, isn’t it? I think it’s not having a lot of enemies to hate anymore. Maybe it’s that for four years we’ve been focusing our minds on one little peanut. . . . Get it over. Eat that peanut. All at once, no peanut. Now we start looking at each other again. We don’t know what we’re supposed to do. We don’t know what’s supposed to happen. We’re too used to fighting, but we just don’t what to fight. You can feel the tension in the air. A whole lot of fight and hate that doesn’t know where to go. A guy like yourself maybe starts hating himself. Well, one of these days we’ll all learn to shifts gears. Maybe we’ll stop hating and start liking things again.

Samuels’s speech gets through to Mitchell and later the audience learns that Samuels is a veteran. Thoughtful treatments of veterans upon their return and sympathetic understanding preached by the advice literature of the time found their voice in several film noirs in the postwar era and provided an intelligent portrayal of veterans as opposed to lurid tales of supposed veteran criminality that appeared in many headlines following the war.

108

SETTLING DOWN

Other movies reflected the civilian public’s combined sympathy and fear of the returning veteran. The film Violence (Jack Bernhard, 1947) focuses on a domestic Fascist organization, run by racketeers and populated by disgruntled veterans. The group’s leader, True Dawson (Emory Parnell), is a charismatic orator who prods vets to join his group of American Fascists, The United Defenders. Playing on veteran mistrust of civilians, he says,“Before you had your country behind you. You had your uniforms; you had your guns. . . . Who’s going to protect you and make it so you get all that’s coming to you? The United Defenders.” Dawson promises to help vets and their families deal with supply shortages and the dearth of excellent jobs for the veteran. He tells his audience of veterans that they have earned “the right to live as free men who deserve the gratitude of the free men you fought for.” Unfortunately for the vets, Dawson is a crook bent on using his veteran followers for his own personal gain. He says to one of his criminal cohorts, “We can make the vets behave anyway we want. We’ll get them young and tough; the kind that’s already wearing a chip on his shoulder. We’ll prime them with hate. Hate for labor, hate for management, hate for the party that’s in, hate for the party that’s out.” Dawson is the representation of many civilians’ fears that unscrupulous leaders could prey upon disenchantment of veterans to create dangerous, neo-Fascist political movements in postwar America. Dawson’s group eventually signs on with a mysterious contractor, Mr. X, who wants the United Defenders to rough up a group of veteran picketers who are protesting the building of offices rather than veteran housing. Armed with signs saying “We want a home for our family,” these veterans are agitating for benefits for vets but not in the hate-filled method employed by Dawson. The protestors’ leader explains their motives: “We believe a few selfish men are thwarting the will of the majority of the people of this country; a majority which wants to see its veterans in homes they fought to protect. . . . All we’re asking for is an even break. We fought for our country, now c’mon. Give us a chance to live in it.” The protestors, whom Dawson had derided as “pantywaists” and “peace-loving guys,” eventually duke it out with the United Defenders. In the end, Dawson and his gang are foiled by a government agent and a female investigative reporter who has to fight through a bout of amnesia (an unsurprising plot development given the genre). Violence is of interest in that it plays on civilians’ fears about violent, disenchanted veterans but also deals with a specific social issue, namely the housing crunch. Though these themes were not always up front in a

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

109

picture’s narrative, left-wing filmmakers were able to use film noir as a platform for different social and political issues. Boomerang! deals with corrupt politics and reform movements, and Brute Force takes a hard look at the nation’s prison system. The Long Night contains an underlying theme of class struggle, as industrial worker Joe is in conflict with the rich, educated magician who denigrates the veteran as low-class rabble. The best example of a film noir with a social conscience is Crossfire, which directly deals with the capture of a murderous anti-Semitic veteran. Hidden themes may also be at work in these film noirs. For example, Act of Violence may be a subtle condemnation of informers to the anti-Communist House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) hearings in Hollywood.17 Key Largo is another film that provides an artistic forum for its creator’s liberal political beliefs about postwar America. The film centers around veteran Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart), a disenchanted veteran who goes to the Florida Keys to look in on the wife, Nora Temple (Lauren Bacall), and father, James Temple (Lionel Barrymore), of his army buddy, George, who was killed in action. In the course of the film, we learn that Frank had been a newspaperman before the war but was not able “to make it stick” after his discharge. Frank has come to Florida looking to get a job on a fishing boat because “life on land has become too complicated for [his] taste.” Instead of continuing in his stable career, Frank has rejected his prewar existence and bounced around the country in a myriad of professions. Frank is the stereotypical disillusioned veteran—itinerant, restless, and unable to settle down after the war. The audience does not understand the depths of Frank’s disillusionment until he is drawn into a conflict with gangsters who are staying at Mr. Temple’s hotel. Exiled mob kingpin Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his gang have holed up in the hotel waiting to complete a counterfeiting scheme that will help the exiled Rocco regain his former position in America’s criminal underworld. Mr. Temple assails the hoodlums with speeches of condemnation from his wheelchair and even attempts a pathetic fistfight, but Frank is defiant yet unwilling to confront the gangsters. Finding out that Frank was a war hero, Rocco questions the vet’s motivations: Johnny Rocco: Why’d you stick your neck out? Frank McCloud: No good reason. . . . I believed some words. Rocco: Words. What words?

110

SETTLING DOWN

Frank: They went like this: “For we who are not making this sacrifice for human effort and human lives to return to the kind of world we had after the last world war. We’re fighting to cleanse the world of ancient evils, ancient ills.”

McCloud recounts a speech of Franklin Roosevelt’s to reveal that the veteran had once been idealistic and entered the military in order to uphold principles in the defense of community and the hope for a more secure future. Director John Huston crafted Key Largo as a response to what he felt was the postwar political retreat away from the values of the New Deal years. The director described the metaphors at work in Key Largo and how the film was used to comment on the postwar era: “The high hopes and idealism of the Roosevelt years were slipping away, and the underworld—as represented by Edward G. Robinson and his hoods—was again on the move, taking advantage of social apathy.”18 But Rocco did not only represent postwar crime or decadence taking hold in postwar America but also represented growing conservatism in America.19 Huston was outraged by the Hollywood HUAC proceedings that were rooting out radicals in the entertainment industry and worked to defend many of the accused. The hostile political climate in Hollywood also meant that the production faced some problems. Huston had to fight to keep the quotation from Franklin Roosevelt, which the studio regarded as too inflammatory. Huston said, “The big shots wanted Bogie to say this in his own words . . . but I insisted that Roosevelt’s words were better.”20 For Huston, the country was on the wrong path, socially and politically, and he used the film to dramatize his hopes and frustrations about postwar America. Key Largo would be Huston’s last picture for Warner Brothers. Conflict over the film made the director feel that the studio (and Hollywood in general) had become too conservative to make the types of movies he wished to create. In making a picture about postwar decline and disenchantment, it is not a surprise that Huston’s main character is a veteran. Huston was a veteran and had made pictures for the War Department. In doing so, he suffered from some of the same disillusionment as the fighting men he filmed. The process of filming at the front lines took an emotional toll on Huston, and he complained of suffering from “mild anxiety neurosis” after his return to America. Huston also sought to show the impact of the war on the men who fought it, even if that meant including scenes that did not glorify the war effort. His documentary film, The Battle of

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

111

San Pietro, was almost banned for its frank depictions of the battlefields in Europe and American casualties. Later, Huston made Let There Be Light, a documentary about veterans with battle fatigue that the War Department refused to release. Huston believed that the War Department disliked the film because they did not want scenes of soldiers with mental problems to affect the image of the returning veteran: “I think it boils down to the fact that [military authorities] wanted to maintain the ‘warrior’ myth, which said our American soldiers went to war and came back stronger for the experience, standing tall and proud for having served their country well. Only a few weaklings fell by the wayside. Everyone was a hero, and had the medals to prove it.”21 Huston’s anger over the “warrior myth” surrounding the American soldier, his disenchantment with much of postwar America, and his own problems with readjustment after witnessing the war put him in the same group with many other disgruntled veterans. He channeled these sentiments into the complex character of Frank McCloud, the liberal but disenchanted veteran trying to make sense of a corrupt postwar nation. In a confrontation with Rocco, McCloud reveals his disillusionment with his previous idealism. After telling Rocco that he once had hopes for “a world in which there’s no place for Johnny Rocco,” the gangster gives Frank a chance to stand up for his former beliefs. Giving Frank a gun, Rocco dares the vet to shoot him, knowing that his men will certainly kill Frank in the process. Frank has a chance to rid the world of an evil presence and give his life for the good of society. But instead of pulling the trigger, Frank throws down the gun saying, “One Rocco more or less isn’t worth it.” Frank’s failure to die for his beliefs crushes Nora and Mr. Temple, who with the passing of their husband and son, had been looking to Frank as a new source of protection and stability. Adding insult to injury, Rocco taunts McCloud, saying, “A live war hero. Now I know how you did it.” The scene continues as captured deputy Sawyer (John Rodney) grabs Frank’s gun to escape and is killed, hopelessly pulling the trigger of a pistol that Rocco did not actually load. Mr. Temple attempts to comfort Frank by saying the veteran knew that the gun was not loaded all the time, but the war hero fails to take this opportunity to save face: Frank McCloud: Oh yes, I was afraid, but that’s not why I didn’t pull the trigger. What do I care about Johnny Rocco, whether he lives or dies? I only care about me. Me and mine! Rocco wants to come back to

112

SETTLING DOWN

America, let him. Let him be president. I fight nobody’s battles but mine. Mr. Temple: I can’t see it your way, Frank. Sawyer didn’t either. Frank: He was a fool. Me die to rid the world of a Johnny Rocco. (Laughs) No thanks. Nora Temple: If I believed your way, I’d want to be dead, too. It’s true. You’re a coward. What you’re saying now is only to save your coward’s face. Mr. Temple: Now, Nora. Maybe Frank’s right. Maybe he’s right.

Frank’s disenchantment with civilian life and postwar America has left him jaded and unwilling to accept the role of protector of American society. Although his failure to live up to the example of her deceased husband has left Nora contemptuous of Frank, the veteran’s critique of current society enervates the defiant Mr. Temple, and he begins to doubt his core beliefs of honor and sacrifice for the greater good. Rocco is not the gravest postwar threat. The disenchanted veteran and the degenerative powers that his disillusionment could wreak upon the postwar nation had the potential to undermine all the accomplishments of the war years. If the nation’s heroes would not defend society from internal and external threats, who would? As a hurricane descends on Key Largo, Frank begins to be uncomfortable with his failure to confront Rocco. The gangster humiliates his drunken girlfriend, faded club singer Gaye Dawn, by making her painfully sing a tune for a drink, and Frank finally decides to get involved. When Rocco refuses his promise after the song, Frank defies the gangster and provides Gaye with her much-needed drink. Though unwilling to act earlier for abstract principles, the sight of a woman in need stirs the protective instinct in Frank. Although he is slapped for his effort, Frank refuses to be bowed and wins the respect of Nora for his compassion. She asks Frank to forgive her for calling him a coward and tries to convince him that he is not as apathetic and self-interested as he would like to believe: Nora Temple: Your head said one way, but your whole life said another. The other things—maybe they’re true. Maybe it is a rotten world. But a cause isn’t lost as long as someone is willing to go on fighting. Frank McCloud: I’m not that fella. Nora: But you are. You may not want to be but you can’t help yourself. Your whole life is against you.

Their belief in Frank’s character restored, Nora and Mr. Temple offer to be Frank’s “family” and urge him to stay with them permanently. In fulfilling

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

113

his duty as masculine protector, Frank is able to redeem himself and earn a position in the Temple family in his process of settling down. But Frank cannot find peace without confronting Rocco’s challenge to society. Rocco needs Frank to drive the gang back to Cuba by boat, and Frank knows that if he does it means certain death once the thugs reach their destination. While waiting for the hurricane to pass, Mr. Temple, Nora, and Gaye all try to convince Frank to make a break for freedom before he gets on the boat. Contemplating their advice while sitting in a darkened room, Frank dramatically fingers George’s medals and attempts to reconcile his hatred of Rocco and what he represents with the veteran’s need for self-preservation. He concludes that he has not changed his jaded view of society, but is nevertheless compelled to try and stop Rocco and his crime syndicate. Agreeing with Nora, in the battle between his head and how he has lived his life, Frank states “Your head always loses.” Mr. Temple nods in agreement, concluding, “If you’re a fighter you can’t walk away from a fight.” Even with his reservations about American society, Frank understands that he has a duty to the greater good and cannot ignore his position as defender of the community and its people. Armed with a pistol supplied by Gaye, Frank takes the mobsters out into foggy waters and is able to kill Rocco and his men. Wounded but alive, Frank turns the boat around and returns victorious, just as he had after his war service. This time however, he has a stable family waiting for him, and, after going through a period of reconciling himself to the need to defend American society, he can look forward to a happy life with Nora and Mr. Temple. Symbolically, upon hearing that Frank has survived, Nora opens the curtain at the hotel to reveal bright sunshine in place of the hurricane and fog that had plagued Key Largo. Not just representing the defeat of the social evil of Johnny Rocco and his henchmen, the end of the storm also speaks to Frank personally emerging from his own inner turmoil and returning to a “home” that will nurture him as he offers it stability and protection. For Huston, American liberals had to actively confront the growing social problems and political conservatism in the postwar, and veterans were one powerful group who could redeem society. With its investigations of these themes, film noir did represent a real departure in its depictions of postwar society. Film noir veterans embodied much of the thinking of both veteran disenchantment and civilian understandings of how to solve the “veteran problem.” Before 1950, more than twenty film noirs featuring veterans were produced. Although the

114

SETTLING DOWN

genre still continued into the 1950s, veteran characters were prominent in only five films. Clearly, Hollywood’s fascination with the brooding, unattached veteran that had made up such a large part of film noir’s early history was lost by the beginning of the 1950s. One possible reason for the decline in the appearance of the vet was oversaturation of films concerning returning soldiers—how many vehicles for amnesiac veterans could Hollywood hope to put out? Another reason for this change lies in the political climate of Hollywood during the postwar era. With the publicity afforded the HUAC hearings, the influence of anti-Communism in Hollywood after 1948 hampered filmmakers’ ability to portray social problems, and film noir of the 1950s focused on different themes.22 A time of great creativity and questioning in Hollywood came to a close, and the restless veteran, along with other social concerns, made fewer appearances in the nation’s movie theaters. But the purge of Hollywood radicals and the exorcism of controversial themes cannot entirely explain the disappearance of the disgruntled veteran from film noir. These pictures were not all made by Hollywood radicals, and those that were made by more conservative filmmakers were not necessarily “imitations that routinely highlighted sadism and half-exposed breasts” as some critics have suggested.23 Robert Montgomery, a prominent Hollywood Republican and friendly witness before HUAC, directed and starred in the well-crafted Ride the Pink Horse. Perhaps the most important factor that led to the disappearance of the film noir vet was that the power of veteran identity in other parts of American culture was changing or diminishing. As disgruntled veteran voices were subsumed by a culture of consensus, the supposed dangerous, edgy genre of film noir largely abandoned portrayals of vets in favor of other dark characters. By the 1950s, Americans largely viewed the adjustment of vets as complete, and veterans were no longer a source of societal anxiety in American culture. Vets had been perfect disenchanted protagonists for film noir in the unsure postwar world of the late 1940s, but the home front project of encouraging veterans to take up positions of leadership in American families and communities was apparently successful and eliminated disgruntled ex-soldiers as a standard character for Hollywood writers. Film noirs usually reinforced home front prescriptions for the returning serviceman, but the coming of the consensus culture of the 1950s ensured that even these generally positive portrayals were largely erased along with the popular reception of the critiques provided by America’s disgruntled veterans.

KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS

115

Since the film noir veteran’s disappearance, the vet-as-outsider character has not vanished altogether. Movies like those in the Rambo series have portrayed angry ex-soldiers suffering blows from an uncaring civilian populace yet, at the same time, defending the American society from which they feel alienated. One obvious difference in more recent films, however, is that Rambo and his ilk tend to be vets from the Vietnam War, not World War II. Soldiers from this more recent conflict serve as good models for characterizations of disgruntled vets because of the place that the war has in American culture. Vietnam was not a victory for the United States, and American soldiers who fought there have often been denied the status of hero, particularly in cinematic treatments of the war. With stories about soldiers’ brutality in Vietnam, the rough treatment vets received from civilians following their return, and ex-soldiers’ supposed difficulty in readjustment to civilian life, the dominant images for many Americans of veterans of the Vietnam War make these fighting men a good fit for features focusing on disenchanted loners. At the same time, the continued heroization of World War II and the men who fought it has made negative images of that war’s veterans seem incongruous. The veteran dissent in the postwar years has largely slipped from America’s collective memory, and, in many ways, this is just what the postwar film noirs, in line with notions of consensus, sought to achieve.

This page intentionally left blank

4

“Citizens First, Veterans Second” The American Veterans Committee and the Challenge of the Cold War

s World War II drew to a close, returning soldiers were often encouraged in the advice literature to join veterans groups as a way to stave off the malaise that had plagued soldiers in past wars. Giving veterans a friendly environment where they could share frustrations with comrades, veterans’ organizations were viewed by experts as an excellent way to ease the transition from military to civilian life. Established organizations, such as the American Legion and the VFW, were fixtures in many American communities and epitomized the veterans’ group for many returning servicemen. For their part, the groups prepared for the huge influx of veterans following the war and sought to dramatically increase their membership and influence. Servicemen also had several options if they were looking to join a veterans’ organization, but many had limited appeal. Some, like the Disabled Veterans of America, Jewish War Veterans of America, or Catholic Veterans of America, limited their membership to those who suffered war injuries or by religious affiliation. Vets of previous wars headed up groups like the VFW and the Legion, and many soldiers saw these organizations as largely out of touch with the concerns of younger veterans. Further, younger servicemen associated veterans’ groups, particularly the Legion, with reactionary right-wing politics, and their chapters were often seen as being hostile to progressive political and social movements. Also, due to the stories of their antics

A

118

SETTLING DOWN

at national conventions and in local chapters, some established veterans’ groups had the reputation among many of the younger generation of servicemen as being little more than social clubs that provided an outlet for members’ needs to engage in juvenile behavior. For serious-minded World War II servicemen bent on changing society and politics, the options for membership in a veterans’ group seemed small. Given their large numbers and the diversity of veterans’ concerns, it is unsurprising that veterans would seek to start their own groups following the war. Along with American Veterans (AMVETS), the other prominent veterans’ group to be established solely for World War II veterans was the AVC. Started as an alternative to the more conservative Legion and VFW, in the immediate postwar years the AVC became a prominent organization, especially among progressive, college-educated servicemen. Voicing the disenchantment expressed by many vets, the AVC more than any other veterans’ organization offered a competing vision of American society to the civilian conceptions developed on the home front. At its height, the AVC claimed to have one hundred thousand members, including many prominent veterans, and appeared before congressional committees testifying about the need for veteran housing and employment. Armed with the motto “Citizens first, veterans second,” the AVC also distanced itself from groups like the Legion, which it viewed as exploiting its members’ war service for political and economic gain. From stressing issues such as civil rights for American minorities to engaging in debates over the future of the atom bomb, the AVC sought to replace soldier-centered veterans’ groups with an organization that tackled a variety of problems in the United States and the world. In doing so, the AVC presented a strong voice for disgruntled and progressive veterans and challenged many of the social and political norms that were beginning to form the postwar consensus culture. Though the AVC saw its numbers grow quickly in the postwar era, its decline was almost as rapid. With its sympathy for leftist causes, the AVC attracted many Communist Party members and fellow travelers who made up a significant and dedicated part of its ranks. As the cold war began to take shape, the AVC was frequently charged with being a front for Communist activity, which limited its ability to draw in new members and its ability to voice views at odds with the rising tide of conservatism in the United States. Communist members engaged in divisive tactics that alienated support they might have received from sympathetic liberals. By the end of 1948, warring factions of liberals and radicals ripped the group apart, and it lost much of its influence. Like other progressive

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

119

and labor organizations, the AVC ultimately purged itself of Communist influence, but the strain of severing a large portion of its membership along with the taint of Communist affiliation in McCarthy-era America were enough to hurt the group’s ability to offer alternatives to developing notions of consensus. With the AVC’s failure to become a national challenge to more conservative veterans’ groups, progressive veterans were denied a potentially strong voice for change that would have dramatically diversified many Americans’ image of World War II veterans’ desires following the war. The first members of the organization that would become the AVC were University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) alumni, who formed an informal correspondence group of servicemen in 1943. Army Air Force corporal Gilbert A. Harrison, influenced by his participation in a liberal religious group at UCLA, the University Religious Conference, began to write to friends and fellow soldiers to discuss their ideas about the postwar era. In April 1943, the correspondence began to be published in a monthly newsletter edited by University Religious Conference administrator Adaline Guenther, and it reached about a hundred servicemen. Within its pages, the bulletin covered a wide range of soldiers’ opinions about the war, the home front, and the shape of postwar America. Like in The American Soldier surveys and veteran literature in the postwar era, a strong current of pessimism ran through the letters. Many veterans were unsure of the type of postwar world that veterans faced and were worried about their role within American society. One wrote, “How are the men who have known the horror, the death, the brutality of battle to be readjusted when their reasons for fighting have been cloudy and obscure? Will they gravitate naturally to the bombastic appeals of the worst elements of the American jingoist?”1 Just as in the soldier surveys, this and other letters attested to the confusion that many fighting men felt toward the home front and the postwar era. This veteran was clearly worried that returning soldiers might be susceptible to domestic Fascist appeals if not given the proper guidance upon their return. The military experience had fundamentally set many veterans apart from a civilian society, which they viewed as corrupt and self-interested. In addition, the economic gains of both corporations and civilian workers during wartime instilled a belief in many vets that the home front was dominated by materialistic concerns and was uninterested in the sacrifices of veterans at the front. For their part, many veterans became disillusioned with their war experience and the reasons given for America’s entry into World War II.2

120

SETTLING DOWN

But the soldier correspondents were determined to do something about the postwar problems expressed by servicemen. These progressive soldiers stressed the need for veterans to work for changes on the home front to prevent the postwar problems that many soldiers were forecasting. One correspondent wrote of postwar political activism: “We’re going to have to chuck away any comfortable cloaks of inactive liberalism we may want to wear and work like Hell for whatever platform comes out of the postwar picture. Unless each one of us is ready to make each individual sacrifice needed the whole idea will fall flat and die in its infancy.”3 For this veteran, soldiers had to return home ready to engage in political activity if vets were going to achieve their postwar goals. In February 1944, with much of the group’s membership in the service and abroad, Charles Bolté, an American veteran of the Canadian Army, was asked to continue as the editor of the bulletin and to coordinate the group’s efforts to create a veteran’s organization. Bolté would become the organization’s most-recognized voice following the war, providing the group’s ideological underpinnings as a nationally recognized spokesman on veterans’ issues. Bolté was a perfect representative of vets’ disenchantment with civilian society and established veterans’ organizations. As a student at Dartmouth, he advocated American entry into the war in Europe and volunteered for the Royal Canadian Air Force following his graduation in July 1941. Bolté described his motivations as going to war “for adventure, for finishing the fight, for the crusade hardly at all.”4 At the Battle of El Alamein, Bolté was wounded and had his leg amputated. He returned to the United States in 1943 and began to express some of the discontent that veterans would articulate in greater numbers following the war’s end. Bolté wrote that: “The vision of America at that time to an American in a foreign army had not been a happy one. Personally it was happy enough: the everyday soldier’s dream of a girl, family, friends, beefsteak, milk, good jazz, elms along a certain street, green fields, mountains and sailboats—the old war aim of all soldiers in all time, pleasant things and the affectionate heart. But that had seemed to be the only American war aim. Were the advertising copy writers really shaping America’s future— Mom and a piece of blueberry pie?”5 Bolté wrote of the disdain that Allied soldiers had for American naiveté when it came to soldiers’ personal motivations to enlist. But like many other vets after their return to the United States, Bolté’s war experience led him to question fighting for simplistic aims such as “Mom and blueberry pie” or democratic freedom for

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

121

all oppressed people. As the war continued, many soldiers cast an increasingly skeptical eye at patriotic appeals and flowery rhetoric when discussing the goals of the American war effort. This disenchantment inevitably put the returning veteran into conflict with civilians upon his return. When Bolté attempted to describe his war experience by submitting candid stories of the soldier’s life, they were rejected on the grounds that civilians wanted their soldiers to be heroes and not ordinary men. One editor dismissed Bolté’s stories stating, “This will be good for publication after the war, when the disillusionment sets in.” But for Bolté and other soldiers, the disillusionment had already arrived. Civilians may have created notions of heroic soldiers fighting for freedom, but many soldiers rejected this image as misleading patriotism that blunted the realities of the war. Bolté questioned sarcastically,“Who were we to try to tell citizens what the war was like? We had only been there.”6 This lack of understanding of the veteran’s war experience was not the only criticism Bolté made of the home front. Bolté was particularly disheartened by the advertisements that linked the war effort to consumption of goods and that attempted to tell vets what their military experience was all about: The advertisements made me retch. What a wonderful variety of products was winning the war for us! But be strong, faint heart; Krispy Krunchies will be available for you as soon as the last dirty Jap is dead. Don’t fear for your boy, flying lonely in the sky like Galahad; the cushion on the seat is made of Mesmerized Rubberoid-Fabricoid, and no German flak can unseat him. . . . We were promised a brave new plastic world. The advertisers stuck grimly to their standard of a more abundant life—rich beautiful plumbing. It was blueberry pie served on a chromium pie plate; a cause any red-blooded American boy would be happy to die for.7

This commercialization of the war coupled with the lack of understanding of why the war was fought only deepened Bolté’s disenchantment. Bolté, like the servicemen in the American Soldier surveys and other veterans writing in the early postwar years, rejected this materialistic version of America forwarded by the home front. After suffering through military service, disillusioned vets rejected visions of America’s greatness based on increased consumption. They were interested in bringing real change to the United States, and the material promises of home front culture did not dissuade them from taking on national problems.

122

SETTLING DOWN

Bolté’s chief concern upon his return was that many of the lessons that the world could learn from the war would go unheeded in the postwar era. Coming home, he felt that there was little in the way of a coherent postwar national or international policy. He saw civilians engage in needless finger pointing over the nation’s problems, and he was concerned about political “witch hunts” that were already beginning to attack liberals. Like many soldiers who fought, he wanted a postwar world that would avoid the mistakes of the past, and in particular stomp out Fascism, but he had difficulty turning the war into a crusade: Winning the war and reaping the fruits of victory were two different things. By winning the war, the victors would win the chance to determine the shape of the future. We could then decide how much or how little we wanted the deaths of the young men to mean. . . . [The defeat of Fascism] would be a consolidation of the gain won in war, and the best memorial to the men who had died fighting. But brave men who die are their own memorial, and it would be foolish to say that they had died in vain just because the living failed to cash in on the dividend of victory.8

Echoing the comments of many veterans, Bolté did not want the sacrifices of this war’s soldiers to be exploited for political or economic gain, especially by civilians who had formulated notions about servicemen that ran counter to veterans’ own experiences. Bolté and the members of the AVC would issue a call to action for World War II veterans and ask them to draw upon the motivations and camaraderie that inspired soldiers on the front lines to take on the challenges at home. One veteran from the Seattle chapter summed up the sentiments of many AVC members about the postwar role of the veteran: “To most of us there is no sense in failing to exercise our democracy after we traveled half way around the world and through hell to preserve our democratic rights. The responsibility rests on the shoulders of us, the veterans, to insure that our country and home community get the best possible representation and leadership.”9 Far from abandoning their communities, these veterans felt the responsibility to lead the nation in peace just as they had in war. In committing to take up positions of leadership in the community, Bolté and other AVC members were in many ways living up to the postwar consensus role that had been formulated on the home front. Like John F. Kennedy, these ex-soldiers were looking to work to make the nation stronger in the postwar era and provide the benefits of the experience of their war service to their communities. But these progressive

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

123

veterans had their own ideas about the nature of this leadership. Their war service had led many veterans to critique the home front and its conduct of the war, and soldiers found much to criticize. As it began to form into a viable national veterans’ organization, the AVC pushed for progressive reforms that were not always welcome in the developing culture of consensus in the postwar era. Many progressive veterans were looking to bear the burden of leadership in America after the war, but the challenge to consensus conformity that their political and social activism created was not the role that many civilians had envisioned for their returning heroes. In July 1944, Bolté and other like-minded veterans officially formed the AVC and created a National Planning Committee (NPC) to get the group up and running. They also put together a short statement of intentions that would be used to guide the group through its drive for increased membership. In it, the AVC forwarded many of the principles it would be known for: civil rights, economic equality, and the drive for international peace: We look forward to becoming civilians: making a decent living, raising a family, and living in freedom from the threat of another war. But that was what most Americans wanted from the last war. They found military victory does not automatically bring peace, jobs, or freedom. To guarantee our interests, which are those of our country, we must work for what we want. Therefore we are associating ourselves with American men and women, regardless of race. creed or color, who are serving with or have been honorably discharged from our armed forces, merchant marine, or allied forces. When we are demobilized it will be up to all of us to decide what action can best further our aims. These will include: Adequate financial, medical, vocational and educational assistance for every veteran. A job for every veteran, under a system of private enterprise in which business, labor, agriculture and government work together to provide full employment and full protection for the nation. Thorough social and economic security. Free speech, press, worship, assembly, and ballot. Disarmament of Germany and Japan and the elimination of the power of their militarist classes. Active participation of the United States in the United Nations organization to promote social and economic measures that will remove the causes of war. Establishment of an international veterans council for the furtherance of world peace and justice among the peoples of all nations.10

With these principles in mind, the AVC sought to bring a new kind of veterans’ group to the national stage that would respond to the disenchantment

124

SETTLING DOWN

and the progressive feelings of many recently returned vets. With a mass organization, veterans who sought to bring changes to the nation, and the world, would have a forum to debate their ideas and a group to support their efforts to lead the United States in the postwar era. Veterans who were drawn to the AVC hoped to move the nation in a new direction and to build different organizations that could give voice to their postwar concerns. Ben Neufeld recalled not being particularly politically minded before his military service, but following the war he sought out the AVC after reading Bolté’s book, The New Veteran. Neufeld credited his lifelong political activism to the political training that he received in the AVC.11 Unlike Neufeld, many of the AVC’s members had been politically active before the war and brought progressive ideas to this new group. J. Arnold Feldman had been a member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) before he entered the service and had gone to war to fight against the spread of Fascism. Upon his return, he was looking to join groups that shared his progressive values and commitment to postwar change. Though the war had not fundamentally altered some of these veterans’ notions of progressive reform, they sought to ally themselves with other vets with whom they shared experiences.12 From the beginning, the AVC set itself up as an alternative to the American Legion, the most recognized veterans’ group at the time. Bolté and other members criticized the Legion for its top-down leadership structure, its reactionary politics, and its espousal of “Americanism” even as it engaged in racist and red-baiting actions. AVC members often referred to the Legionnaires as “kingmakers” due to their effective lobbying in Washington. These younger veterans envisioned a more dynamic group, responsive to their postwar concerns. Soldiers had debated the merits of creating a new vets’ organization in the service papers, and the AVC was the beneficiary of this type of sentiment. The theme of conflict between the AVC and the Legion was highlighted in Bill Mauldin’s article in The Atlantic Monthly, “Poppa Knows Best.” A Pulitzer Prize–winning GI cartoonist and one of the more active celebrities in the AVC, Mauldin often displayed a veteran’s disenchantment and skepticism about civilian life in his postwar cartoons. In the article, Mauldin attacked the Legion’s failure to listen to its World War II veteran members, stating flatly that “youth has no voice in the Legion.” With its social and political conservatism and entrenched, aging leadership, the Legion failed to respond to pressing problems on the progressive serviceman’s mind.

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

125

Instead of looking to its younger members for energy and enthusiasm, the Legion, in Mauldin’s estimation, was only interested in defending its political power. Mauldin quoted one Legion officer to sum up the group’s attitude toward younger members: “This is a billion dollar corporation. . . . You don’t turn something like that over to a bunch of inexperienced kids.”13 Like others on the home front, the leadership of the Legion encouraged World War II veterans to settle down and rapidly integrate back into American society. After these new veterans had adapted to the norms set up by Legion leaders, then the next generation of vets could look to take over the group. To the chagrin of leaders of older vets’ groups, many World War II veterans were encouraged by their military experience to engage in progressive change and were not looking to return home to follow the dictates of conservatives on the home front. These ex-soldiers sought immediate change, and a dynamic, progressive group like the AVC better fit these vets’ conceptions of their role in postwar society than did the Legion’s leadership. In Mauldin’s article and other AVC statements, the differences between the AVC and the Legion were presented as a generational conflict between American vets. This criticism went beyond just attacking the Legion. The AVC challenged the entire previous generation of American leadership. As evidence of their elders’ failures, the AVC pointed to the history of mistreatment of vets after World War I and the failure of peace efforts between the wars. An AVC recruiting pamphlet asked vets, “What kind of world are you going to find after this war is won? Last time it wasn’t long before veterans were . . . selling apples on the streets . . . standing in line to get fed in soup kitchens . . . begging for any kind of underpaid, dirty job. . . . And last time, the world waited only 13 years (the Jap invasion of Manchuria) before starting this business of war all over again.”14 In an article about the AVC in Mademoiselle, the author also stressed the AVC’s commitment to providing new leadership in an uncertain postwar era: “They are restless, highly articulate, dissatisfied with things as they are and working hard to do something about it. . . . Unlike the past generation, these young leaders are not disillusioned. . . . They feel they have a responsibility to their country and their world. They know the older generation bungled things very badly and they are convinced that they can do much better.”15 This was not going to be a group in the mold of the “Lost Generation” of World War I, but instead it was going to be a motivated group of energetic progressives ready to tackle the problems they found in postwar America.

126

SETTLING DOWN

Beyond their youth, members of the AVC distinguished themselves from the vets in the American Legion in terms of goals. In particular, the AVC claimed that the Legion was too focused on gaining privileges for veterans at the expense of their fellow citizens. For vets in the AVC, the Legion’s constant lobbying for excessive veterans’ handouts, such as veteran bonuses or hiring preferences, was a symptom of the materialism found on the home front and served only to widen the gap between soldier and civilian. Decrying the Legion’s efforts to create a class of “professional veterans,” Mauldin instead urged veterans and civilians to come together to create solutions to the problems affecting America’s “erstwhile heroes” that moved beyond “charity and simple cash handouts.”16 Bolté also highlighted this theme in The New Veteran: “When [veterans] emerged, they would be ripe for convincing—convincing that ‘certain policies will set them free.’ Those policies were the ones that would bring peace and freedoms to all Americans, veteran and civilian alike. They were policies that must be aimed at restoring the veteran as quickly as possible to his civilian status. . . . Special privileges for veterans . . . were nonsense. If they tended to separate veterans from nonveterans, they were worse than nonsense: they were malicious and dangerous. No money reward, no bonus, no free streetcar transfers, could repay a man for risking his life for his country.”17 The AVC’s commitment to this principle was evident in their motto, “Citizens first, veterans second.” In refusing to turn their military experience into a commodity that could be manipulated for personal gain, AVC members weakened the home front’s efforts to portray the war as a crusade for freedom and America’s fighting men as heroes. Vets in the AVC were eager to lead the country after the war, but they would do so only on their terms and did not want to use their service as leverage to gain economic or political power. Arnold Feldman restated this philosophy as “what was good for the country was good for the veteran rather than necessarily what was good for veterans was good for the country.”18 Even as the consensus culture of the postwar era encouraged vets to accept their position as heroes back home, the AVC still championed the more sobering view that the veterans had expressed in the soldiers surveys. For the AVC, veterans had completed a difficult, dangerous job but were not the idealized warriors created by civilians and “professional veterans” on the home front. Even with its strong statement of purpose, the AVC walked a difficult line with its “citizens first” principle. Like all veterans’ groups, the AVC understood that soldiers needed help to compete back in civilian society after their war service. Subsequently, the AVC was not willing to concede

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

127

all the benefits that came from their status as soldiers, and as heroes. Their statement of intentions placed them squarely behind the creation of the GI Bill, one of the Legion’s most important legislative issues. Even as the AVC claimed to be citizens first, much of its agenda suggested that it was more concerned with distancing itself from the Legion and other groups than in eschewing their claims of aid upon their return from the service. Like the Legion or the VFW, the AVC recognized that certain promises were made to veterans by the nation, and they were as intent as any group to ensure that veterans were not left behind as the country moved into the postwar era. Educational opportunities and vocational training, adequate housing for ex-servicemen, and medical benefits for veterans were all the type of aid that the AVC felt that soldiers deserved from their government. In this way, the AVC’s policies represented many veterans’ confusion in the postwar era: on the one hand, wanting to be treated like anyone else, on the other hand, expecting certain rewards for their service. Moreover, Bolté’s and other members’ insistence that veterans had to enter into positions of leadership in national and international politics was based upon the belief that veterans had a better understanding of the price of failure to create peace in the postwar era than did civilians. They were citizens first, but veterans had experienced the horrors of war more deeply than did civilians in the United States. Also, in his chastisement of civilians for their failure to understand the reasons why the war was fought, Bolté presumed that he and the veterans of the AVC were better informed about the real causes of the war and had superior solutions to future problems. Though the AVC was more cognizant than any other veterans’ organization of the problems of using vets’ military service for political and economic gain, it partly encouraged consensus notions that veterans needed to lead the nation after the war. The AVC was created as an antithesis of the American Legion, but in supporting the consensus understanding of the special need for veterans’ leadership in the postwar era, the AVC furthered some of the “professional veteran” sentiment that the group so despised in the Legion’s policies and rhetoric. Still, the AVC was the group that best represented the disenchantment and dissent shared by many soldiers, and it was able to capitalize on the progressive sentiment of many servicemen to increase its membership. The AVC was competing against noteworthy groups like the American Legion and the VFW whose posts were found in communities throughout America. By 1946, the VFW had 1.5 million members and the Legion had more than 3 million, but the AVC’s ability to capitalize on soldiers’

128

SETTLING DOWN

desires for a new face in veterans’ affairs led to substantial growth for the upstart group in the immediate postwar years. The organization grew from 800 members in October 1944 to 5,500 in 1945 to 18,000 members by February 1946, organized into 104 chapters in the United States and 24 abroad. In addition, by the beginning of 1946 the group had gained enough financial resources to publish a twice-monthly, eight-page newspaper, the AVC Bulletin.19 Further, the AVC was aided by the membership of noted veterans such as Franklin Delano Roosevelt Jr.; the son of a former Secretary of State Oren Root Jr.; and war hero, Audie Murphy. Current and future political figures such as Richard Bolling, Warren Magnuson, and Henry Cabot Lodge were members. The AVC also could claim as members such Hollywood stars as John Huston, Douglas Fairbanks, Melvyn Douglas, and Ronald Reagan. With these famous names on its membership rolls, the AVC proved that it had evolved into much more than a small correspondence group of concerned vets. Instead, it was shaping up to be a major player in the postwar debate about the role of the veteran in the reconstruction of the nation. With the boost in membership after the war’s end and a slate of noteworthy members providing the group credibility, the AVC set out to tackle issues that concerned veterans upon their return home. The AVC Bulletin carried articles on finding employment for veterans, how to take advantage of educational benefits, and the need to retain price controls after the war. AVC representatives testified in front of congressional committees and in numerous state legislatures on the need to provide adequate medical care and vocational training for America’s fighting men. Along with the VFW, the Legion, and other vets’ groups, the AVC engaged in sustained political lobbying for vets in the postwar era. The issue probably most associated with the AVC was the need to improve the nation’s housing situation. Following the war, the United States suffered through an unprecedented housing shortage, and many veterans were left scrambling to find adequate and affordable places to live. Though the AVC agreed with some of the GI Bill provisions pushed by the Legion and other groups in Congress, its members were outraged with the Legion’s failure to address the nation’s housing shortage, which was a pressing issue to so many servicemen. In particular, the AVC urged the passage of the bills that proposed government financing of low-cost housing. The AVC’s leaders charged that groups like the Legion and the VFW were beholden to the real estate lobby and were acting against the interests of the nation’s vets in refusing to put their full energies behind these bills. This for the AVC was another example of how veterans of

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

129

previous wars, largely unaffected by the housing crisis, were more interested in material gain than in aiding the vets of World War II.20 The AVC called for action. In 1947 many of its branches protested housing conditions. Its forty-four Los Angeles chapters organized a “Big Sleep” demonstration, with 1,500 servicemen and their families sleeping in a local park to demonstrate the need for veteran housing.21 In addition, the AVC testified in front of the Veterans Housing Committee numerous times in 1946 and 1947. By 1948 its increasing frustration with Congress’s failure to act culminated in the National Veterans Housing Conference, spearheaded by Congressman John F. Kennedy and AVC notable Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr. Though opposed by the national leadership, an unofficial splinter group from the American Legion attended the conference, proving how important the housing issue was to the nation’s ex-soldiers. A group of 1,500 servicemen and veterans’ organization representatives heard speeches from different housing advocates and supportive words from General Dwight Eisenhower and President Truman. In many ways, this was the high point for the AVC’s legislative agenda, as it was able to aid in the forming of a coalition of vet groups to highlight the housing crunch.22 But the AVC went beyond lobbying efforts for veterans’ rights. One of its most important issues was the necessity to eliminate racial prejudice in the United States. In this way, the AVC acted again as a liberal alternative to the more conservative American Legion. Although the Legion’s national leadership officially disapproved of racist practices in its branches, the Legion had a spotty record in this regard. The Hood River, Oregon, chapter of the Legion removed the names of the town’s Nisei veterans from a memorial plaque, and in California, a Legion chapter suffered mass defections after a Japanese American vet was forcibly removed from its ranks by higher Legion authorities in the state. In an interview with the national commander of the American Legion, Bill Mauldin reported that the commander believed that the Ku Klux Klan was no longer a threat in the United States, highlighting the Legion’s blindness to racial prejudice in America. Echoing the sentiments of the growing consensus culture of the time, the commander informed Mauldin that Communism, not racism, was the true threat to peace in America.23 The progressive veterans in the AVC challenged the notion that the fight for racial inequality was secondary to the battle against Communism. The AVC was the only national veterans’ organization that required its chapters to be integrated, and the group made civil rights action one of the pillars of its national program. The NPC of the AVC had several black

130

SETTLING DOWN

members, and black veterans were active participants in different local chapters. Future Peace Corps administrator Franklin Williams was on the National Planning Board, and NAACP head Roy Wilkins was also a member. In a dramatic moment at the first AVC convention in Des Moines, the membership picketed a restaurant that refused to serve African American delegates, leading to the owner’s arrest for violating an Iowa antidiscrimination law.24 The AVC Bulletin also carried many items on the groups’ fight against racism, from the Manila chapter’s effort to rid the local service newspaper of racist imagery to the efforts of chapters to work against lynching.25 In Georgia, AVC chapters were active in attempts to overturn Jim Crow legislation and worked for the defeat of notable racist politicians.26 In Alabama, the group had difficulty recruiting members due to its interracial makeup, but it still suffered harassment by local police officers.27 In Mississippi, AVC members worked to help black voters turned away from the polls in 1946, and were able to secure several prominent African American members, including NAACP organizer Medgar Evers. The AVC’s focus on racial injustice was in direct contrast to consensus norms that urged Americans to downplay fractures in American society. Fueled by a progressive desire to reform society, AVC members continued to call attention to the gross inequalities suffered by the nation’s minorities. In addition, the AVC was sympathetic toward the labor movement in the United States as a way of ensuring good jobs for veterans. Though many vets expressed antilabor ideas due to wartime strikes by prominent unions, the AVC stood firmly behind labor in the postwar strike wave and in fighting antilabor legislation like the Taft-Hartley Act. Many veterans had expressed anger at both labor and management for wartime strikes, but the AVC came out firmly in support of unions. Similar to its stance on civil rights, the AVC’s prolabor policies put it in conflict with consensus norms in postwar America that frowned on societal conflict in the face of the expanding cold war. The AVC’s foreign policy platforms also placed the organization in opposition to the United States’ foreign policy in the postwar era. Charles Bolté and many other AVC veterans were motivated by their experience as witnesses to the most destructive war in history and were passionate advocates for international cooperation to prevent more military hostilities. Vets like Ronald Reagan joined the AVC because they felt it was an organization that would work for peace and could help prevent future wars.28 The AVC offered a dissenting voice to United States’ foreign policy

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

131

that its members felt was escalating tensions with the Soviet Union. At its early conventions, delegates fiercely debated topics such as the Marshall Plan and issued resolutions against the Truman Doctrine. In addition, the AVC consistently lobbied for increased powers to international mediating bodies, such as the UN, and many members favored a world government as envisioned by groups such as Americans United for World Organization. Arguments against universal military training, calls for international control of atomic power, and demands for an international military force were all favored by the AVC in order to prevent the growth of tensions in the initial stages of the cold war.29 Contesting the growth of the Soviet American rivalry in international politics, the AVC’s ideas on foreign policy put it into direct opposition to cold war notions about the need to secure American sovereignty and the growing threat of the Soviet state. This emphasis on national and international politics led the AVC to actively encourage its members to engage in the political lives of their communities and make the voice of the veteran heard. The AVC Bulletin encouraged its members to join get-out-the-vote campaigns targeted at vets. Editorials focused on the need for veterans to become involved in their communities and work with the AVC on issues from housing to education to world peace. In the September 1946 issue of the Bulletin, prominent Democrat Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr. and Republican Oren Root Jr., both members of the group’s NPC, contributed their thoughts on “The Veteran and Public Affairs.” The juxtaposition of the pieces was probably designed to highlight the AVC’s commitment to bipartisanship, but it also showed the progressive liberal ideology espoused by the AVC’s leadership. Roosevelt focused his piece on the potential political power that the veteran could wield if well organized. Citing the uprising of veterans in Athens, Tennessee and vet Joseph McCarthy’s victory in Wisconsin due to a large servicemen vote, Roosevelt wrote, “out of this unrest, this desire to make things better, not only for themselves, but for their neighbors, veterans are on the march in every part of the nation.” Working against corrupt political machines and indifferent incumbents who “think that the present up-cropping of veterans in politics is a temporary phenomenon,” Roosevelt urged “citizen-veterans . . . to see that our representatives in Congress really represent the majority of the people, not small, selfish special interests.” This stress on veterans’ political activism and their commitment to being active members within their communities was part of the AVC’s program of rallying soldiers to progressive

132

SETTLING DOWN

political causes and at the same time refusing to follow a plan of attack that would set them apart from civilians, as the AVC felt the Legion’s politics had the potential to do. Oren Root Jr. also focused on the difficult task of encouraging veteran solidarity while at the same time stressing the need to be “citizens first.” Root emphasized the special leadership role that he felt veterans needed to play in the postwar era. Root began his piece saying that the vet’s interest in public affairs was the same as any citizen, but he pointed out that “having been called upon to give several of the best years of his life to the war, the attainment of the objectives for which that war was fought should mean more to him than the average non-veteran.” Root stated that vets should not seek to extend benefits to themselves at the expense of others, but he felt they could act as a united group with tremendous pull in politics. Root believed that vets were “particularly well qualified for public life” due to their worldliness, understanding of the need for teamwork, and a “special stake” they had in postwar politics. Emphasizing the comradeship experienced by soldiers, Root implored veterans to “take the lead in bringing all the country and the world to the same high level of cooperation” as servicemen had experienced in the military.30 Like Roosevelt and other AVC members, Root wanted vets to act as any other concerned citizens would for progressive political causes, but at the same time he argued that veterans were different from civilians and occupied a special place within postwar politics. The AVC may have longed for its members to be “Citizens first, veterans second,” but it continually supported an image of veterans that was based on the notion that due to their military experiences veterans had a greater stake in the postwar world and therefore should enjoy a degree of deference from civilians. Even as they chafed against the heroic image of veterans that the Legion called upon to gain legislative ammunition, the AVC and its leaders used the elements of civilian reverence for soldiers to further the group’s influence. In emphasizing a need for leadership that only veterans could provide in the postwar era, the AVC echoed aspects of the home front’s call for vets to come home to their communities and help rebuild the nation. Though the AVC consistently lobbied for a progressive vision of America’s future that was often at odds with the developing cold war culture in the United States, its advocacy of the special postwar role of veterans served to reinforce consensus ideas about the veteran’s need to integrate into civilian life and take up positions of leadership. The AVC reflected the returning veteran’s conflicted relationship with consensus assumptions in the group’s attitude toward female veterans as

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

133

well. The AVC was more open to female vets than other veteran’s organizations and often emphasized this commitment to women’s participation. In a piece about a married couple who were AVC members, the husband stressed that his wife preferred the AVC because “old-line veterans groups, no matter what principles they might endorse, would always be inclined to regard ladies mainly as tea-pouring auxiliaries” and not as full members. Agreeing with his wife that “she deserves all the privileges of any veteran,” the husband encouraged all female vets to reject the shabby treatment they received due to their service in the WAC and other branches and join the AVC to make a difference. The wife also praised her husband’s decision to be in the AVC and stressed that “our membership is on an equal basis, our contributions in no way confined.” She wanted to take the equality that the couple had based their marriage on and work to ensure that all Americans enjoyed the same type of freedom. Though she did use the imagery of the hen-pecking wife to make a point about commitment to the community (“sneaking out to poker games is one thing—sneaking out on one’s rights as a citizen is another”), the general tone of the article suggested that the AVC was an organization that valued the participation of female veterans to the same extent as the contributions of male servicemen.31 In addition, at least at the local level, women were often officers in different branches. Looking at membership lists or names of delegates sent to the convention, in comparison with other veterans’ groups, one is struck with the number of women who played an active role in AVC.32 In a telling moment at an NPC meeting, AVC members displayed their commitment to gender equality. During a discussion about requests from vets, one committee member wanted to tell an offcolor anecdote about a veteran “picking up a dose” of venereal disease. Initially, he declined to relate the story due to the presence of some women. Once the other committee members assured him that all the women present were veterans, he gladly completed his anecdote. Apparently, veteran status allowed for a degree of camaraderie across gender lines.33 But although these AVC members took a swipe at other veterans’ groups for not living up to their rhetoric on the equality of female veterans, the AVC Bulletin was also sending mixed messages to its readers about the place of women in the organization. In an apparent move to drum up membership in the style of older veterans’ groups, the paper ran several pictures of scantily clad women in its pages. Above the picture of one bathing beauty was the caption “Honorary Chapter Head” and readers learned that a New York City chapter had chosen this “pin-up pixie” as its honorary chairman.34 A Massachusetts chapter also ran a contest

134

SETTLING DOWN

for “The Readjustment Girl—A Veteran’s Companion” and sent the national office a photo of the winner.35 In highlighting these women, the AVC undermined its commitment to its female members and their equality within the group. “Miss Readjustment” seemed more in line with consensus notions of what soldiers should expect from women upon their return than the AVC’s line on full membership for women vets. The solidification of this view of women veterans came in the form of the AVC’s national “Miss American Vet” contest. Similar to other beauty pageants, the AVC put a new twist on an old idea by limiting the contest to only former WACs, Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES), Spars, Women Marines, and army and navy nurses. For women veterans trying to be taken seriously by their male comrades, a beauty contest did little to highlight notions of equality within the group. Servicewomen battled reputations of sexual promiscuity throughout the war, and a beauty pageant served only to reinforce the notion that they were in the armed forces to satisfy the soldier’s sexual needs. In the ad for the pageant, the Bulletin suggested that local contests be used as “fundraising parties,” indicating that the national office was interested in expanding membership by relying on some of the dubious practices of the Legion and was less concerned about the impact such a contest might have on female recruitment.36 Several issues of the Bulletin contained pictures of contestants, including one front-page photo, until a winner was announced in New York in October 1946. The winner made radio appearances and was rewarded with a modeling course.37 The Bulletin seemed to brand the contest a success, but at least one letter to the editor expressed a distaste for distractions from the group’s goals: “As a member of the AVC I wish to interpose my objection to the printing of unnecessary, irrelevant photos in The AVC Bulletin such as the three pictures of Misses So and So in bathing suits. . . . I don’t personally give a darn who Miss American Veteran will be and it has nothing to do with my reasons for joining AVC.” Though the gender of the writer could not be discerned from the letter, the editors assumed it was a disgruntled male and placed a cartoon of an angry, hunched over academic carrying books shooing away two pageant contestants.38 The AVC seemed to step in line with other veterans’ groups and the home front in placing women firmly in positions as sexual objects. To question this position was to be ridiculed as being an effete intellectual, more interested in the life of the mind than in fun and sexual pursuits. Women’s issues were not a major topic of concern in the AVC Bulletin in the immediate postwar years.

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

135

When women were featured, it was either in news of the AVC’s Ladies’ Auxiliary or to comment on their attractiveness. One female chairman of a California branch of the AVC was featured in the Bulletin, but only under the line “Pretty AVC Leader.” Women also did not hold positions on the NPC in the early postwar years, and one woman may have been replaced as head of public relations because “a man . . . could do a better job.”39 With their support of consensus notions about the role of women, and specifically women veterans following the war, the AVC limited its effectiveness as a springboard for the concerns of female veterans and as an alternative to traditional veterans’ groups. Even with its limitations, the AVC provided many veterans a national organization that was sympathetic to the critical comments of many servicemen, and its stated goals obviously appealed to many vets. Despite the obstacles to starting a new veterans group, the AVC’s leadership was enthusiastic about the possibilities for the future. In a memo to an AVC advising committee in 1945, Bolté told his comrades that the AVC’s prospects looked bright. After meeting with AVC supporters in New York and Hollywood, Bolté was convinced that the group had to attract as many members as it could in the first months after the war. He wrote that the AVC “must go out for members in an aggressive way, broadening our base through appealing to a much wider cross-section of the armed forces than we have done in the past. I am more than ever convinced that by presenting our ideals and principles in terms of bread and butter, in terms of the every day lives of young veterans, we can be a fairly large and broad organization while we maintain a consistently progressive policy.” To get the AVC’s message out, Bolté also urged the group to hire a public relations firm and take out national ads in order to increase membership.40 Encouraged by its supporters in the entertainment industry, the AVC went so far as to create a radio wing. It produced a program for the Des Moines convention that outlined the different issues that could appeal to vets and stressed the need for action to take on postwar problems. One speaker on the program claimed that many veterans needed to be “lured or frightened” out of their state of political apathy, and the AVC could build membership by using modern advertising techniques to dramatize the importance of different social and political issue to vets. In advocating for veterans’ issues such as housing and employment, and at the same time pushing a broader progressive agenda, the AVC hoped to form a national veterans’ group that could work for real change in society and government.41

136

SETTLING DOWN

And their message seemed to have genuine appeal. At the AVC’s first national convention in Des Moines, 850 delegates approved a platform that stressed the group’s commitment to veterans’ housing and education concerns, liberal economic policies and price regulation, support for the UN, enactment of the Fair Employment Practices Committee and other measures to ensure civil rights, and other policies favored by the nation’s progressive veterans. Though the AVC’s strong stand on these issues put them in opposition to aspects of the cold war consensus culture, the group appeared ready and willing to back up their positions with a strong organization that would provide veterans the opportunity to offer strong critiques of American politics and society. AVC members refused to engage in the raucous antics typically found at the conventions of the American Legion: “No gold braids or impressive titles, no show of medals; no whistling at girls or hotfoots; no parades; no clapping of backs or handing out of cigars; no come on up and have a quick one; no Auld Lang Syne; but remembrance, creating a sense of sober responsibility; a determination to be the world’s last veterans.”42 Newsweek reported that the Des Moines merchants were disappointed that the AVC delegates spent most of the convention in all-night caucuses instead of contributing to the local economy.43 This was a new type of veterans’ organization, and the group’s serious nature was achieving attention on the national stage. But along with acknowledgment of the AVC’s depth of commitment, stories of the Des Moines convention also contained tales of the group’s ideological disputes between factions of liberals and radicals. At the convention, Bolté and his liberal allies held off a move by the group’s left to push the AVC into more radical positions and activity. Unfortunately for the AVC, coverage of the group’s factional strife would become all too familiar in the postwar era. Though the group would win admirers for some of its positions, the AVC often received more notoriety for the battles waged between its own members over the issue of Communism.44 At the war’s conclusion, the United States’ uneasy alliance with the Soviet Union began to break apart, and an increasing number of Americans began to worry about the threat of domestic Communism to national security. Though the Communist Party of the United States encouraged its veteran members to join the American Legion and utilize the “boring from within” technique it had recommended for gaining control of labor unions, the Legion’s extreme anti-Communism ensured that many Communists and fellow travelers would seek other alternatives when

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

137

selecting a veterans’ group. The AVC’s sympathy to labor, emphasis on postwar international cooperation, and strong stand on civil rights made the group a popular choice among veterans interested in radical politics. With the cold war beginning to take shape in the immediate postwar era, the strong presence of radicals and Communists within the AVC had dire circumstances for the group, and veterans soon faced difficult choices of how to be both progressive and patriotic in the face of growing pressure against social and political radicalism. As the group attempted to attract members in the months following the war, the AVC was forced to spend valuable time and effort refuting charges of Communism. One of the first publicized attacks against the group occurred in February 1946 when Hearst newspaper columnist Westbrook Pegler devoted three columns to attacks on the AVC for the group’s stance on labor issues and its supposed Communist leadership. Due to the AVC’s support of the CIO in postwar labor disputes, Pegler charged that the group was little more than “a veterans’ auxiliary of Sidney Hillman’s Political Action Committee” and a haven for veteran subversives. Pegler felt that vets in the AVC were providing the wrong type of leadership upon their return from service. Instead of supporting the growth of American business and the government, Pegler claimed the AVC was trying to turn the nation’s veterans into an “army of radicals” bent on destroying the foundations of American society. Although he questioned the validity of the AVC’s pledge not to use vets’ war service for personal gain, Pegler constructed his own notion of the veteran’s postwar duty. He did not deny that vets were important to the nation’s future, but he suggested that the AVC’s members were not adequately fulfilling the role that the nation had assigned its fighting men.45 These types of attacks were damaging enough that the AVC Bulletin carried an editorial, “The Future of the AVC” by the group’s founder, Gilbert Harrison. In it he listed the accomplishments of the AVC, from defending Veterans Administration head General Omar Bradley from the attacks of the American Legion to liberalizing the GI Bill to fighting against a veterans’ bonus the group saw as an unwarranted handout. Though it was never stated explicitly, the editorial was more concerned about weathering the attacks of critics: “We can expect increasing criticism from the extreme right and left, and, worst of all, we shall continue meeting apathy on the part of those in the middle.” The editorial continued by stressing the group’s commitment to political nonpartisanship and acknowledged that AVC members might hold different views on the

138

SETTLING DOWN

issues: “Some will feel we are too ‘conservative,’ other[s] too ‘progressive.’ No organization is without such differences of interpretation.” Harrison stressed the importance of keeping the AVC open to ideas and debate. But even as Harrison seemed to outline a general set of goals, the editorial appeared to be a carefully worded refutation of critics’ contention that the AVC was a Communist front. After listing the AVC’s liberal credentials and its challenge to “stand-patters” of the political right, Harrison then moved to disassociate the group from the radical left: “To the Communists . . . AVC may appear to be ‘naïve’ or even ‘reactionary’ since all of us subscribe in our Statement of Intentions to a ‘job for every veteran under a system of private enterprise.’” In making this statement, Harrison simultaneously informed critics of the organization’s advocacy “for Government underwriting of jobs for all, without sacrificing our system of private ownership and management” and also reminded the radical left of the type of organization that they had joined. According to most of the group’s national leadership, the AVC was not an organization that was going to call for a complete overhaul of the American capitalist system. Instead, Harrison urged members to focus their sights on specific programs and not radical declarations of principles. He wrote, There is one special danger we face. It is a danger that would only face an organization like AVC—one whose members want justice for all. We can lose a great deal of our effectiveness unless we choose carefully our objectives and devise practical methods for winning them. Our immediate emphasis is on three primary problems: jobs and adequate housing in America, and a working union of nations that can prevent future wars. . . . Our Statement of Intentions defines basic goals for which veterans can work. If we can keep those minimal essentials clearly in sight, and refuse to [be] diverted into every doctrinaire side-street, we can win widespread veteran support our program deserves.46

Harrison’s frustration with criticism and factionalism surrounding the AVC was evident. Radical assaults on some American principles such as private ownership were not an effective rallying cry for the organization as a whole, as many members like Harrison were more inspired by New Deal liberalism than Soviet Communism. Harrison and others in the group’s leadership were worried that the radical positions of some of the AVC members would prevent “widespread veteran support,” and the group’s reputation would be one of a small, radical cell with interests at

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

139

odds with most Americans. Harrison was careful not to word the editorial in such a way as to completely alienate the far left of the AVC but the message was clear. The AVC leadership was asking its members to confine their activities to a limited set of goals and not to engage in political rhetoric or actions that would leave the group open to attacks from the right or hurt the AVC’s ability to attract new recruits. Though the leadership of the group was willing to make some concessions in the AVC’s activity to insulate itself against attacks spawned by the growth of the cold war, they were still unwilling to completely subscribe to the opinions of conservatives like Pegler and others who deemed progressive action by America’s veterans to be unpatriotic or subversive. For the AVC’s members, progressive political action in veterans’ affairs went hand in hand with calls for movement on social issues such as civil rights or international concerns such as control of atomic energy. Bolté, Harrison, and the other members of the group felt the AVC’s challenge to cold war consensus norms on these issues was their duty as veteran leaders in the postwar era. The Bulletin carried articles critical of conservatives’ “redbaiting” tactics even as the group was attempting to dispute its reputation as a Communist front. Veterans of the AVC viewed their role in postwar America differently from the growing consensus culture, and the charges of Communist subversion did little to soften the group’s rhetoric on many controversial issues. But as the group sought to temper the attacks on Communism in the postwar era, the AVC found itself increasingly on the defensive from critics, especially other veterans’ groups whose leadership was more responsive to the nation’s developing conservatism. In October, Charles Bolté issued a response to attacks that had been made against the AVC by different servicemen’s organizations. In July 1946, the VFW National Commander accused the AVC of being “the worst example of certain veterans groups which are ridden with Communist Front leaders and fellow travelers” and said the VFW was investigating the AVC. The VFW’s vice commander suggested at another meeting that the AVC received its funds from foreign sources and that it was a Red Front organization. Bolté also quoted the national commander of the Disabled American Veterans who said the AVC was “lousy with a bunch of pinks and left-wingers” and its members were “4-Fs and draft dodgers,” and provided an excerpt from an American Legion official warning about domestic subversion. Bolté refuted the charges as a witch hunt inspired by the threat the AVC posed to established veterans’ groups and compared the accusations to the tactics of Nazi propagandist Josef Goebbels. Though Bolté wanted to believe

140

SETTLING DOWN

that the attacks were inspired by the success and growing influence of the AVC, they also signaled the growth of the cold war and the building anger against political radicalism in the United States.47 The importance Americans accorded the threat of Soviet subversion in the postwar years meant that Bolté’s group, like many other labor and liberal organizations, would soon have to decide how to push for the progressive changes that their members envisioned in an increasingly conservative climate. Rumors of Communist infiltration had dogged the AVC since its inception, and the FBI had taken note. As early as February 1945, the FBI had been receiving requests to provide background information on the AVC and was compiling reports on the group’s activities.48 Even as reports of Communist activity increased, the bureau was loath to launch a full investigation of the AVC for fear of negative publicity. In an internal memo from December 1946, an FBI official urged its New York office not to attend the state convention of the AVC as “The Bureau would probably be accused at some later date of having this attendance in order that we could spy into the meeting and we would be accused of persecuting the veterans.” Under the memo FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover wrote, “I agree.” The veteran status of the AVC members still carried enough weight at the end of 1946 that it made the FBI think about the fallout over being viewed by the public as attacking the nation’s heroes.49 The bureau continued to collect information but waited to open full-scale investigations into the AVC’s activities. Though Bolté and others in the AVC were early opponents of the anti-Communist fervor that began to be felt in the U.S. government following the war, the pressure of charges of Communist infiltration of the organization and liberals’ own distaste for the Communist Party began to divide the group into factions. The first important salvo against Communists within its ranks was launched by the AVC’s NPC in November 1946. Apparently tired of the consistent attacks by critics, the NPC took the decisive step of issuing a resolution against Communism, a move the leadership surely knew would anger many of its more radical members. Although Bolté’s statements just a month before had lashed out against the critics who engaged in red-baiting, the NPC hoped to end the debate over Communism’s role within the organization by announcing, “We oppose the entrance into our ranks of members of the Communist Party and we shall strive to prevent them, when and if, by subterfuge or deceit, they gain such entrance, from attempting to use AVC as a sounding-board for their own perverse philosophy.” Bolté stated that this was simply a reaffirmation of the AVC’s goals and urged

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

141

its chapters to support the resolution unanimously, but it was clearly the AVC’s strongest statement against “perverse” Communist veterans. Though the NPC also issued a similar statement against Fascism, apparently for ideological balance, there was little doubt the measure was aimed at Communists specifically. The NPC defended its action in the statement as a move for self-protection: “The responsibility for the dissolution of so many useful groups can be placed directly upon the American Communist Party, which, recognizing the readiness of progressives to accept the cooperation of seemingly sympathetic individuals, has continually instructed its members to enter these organizations and attempt to take an aggressive part in their internal affairs.” Communists were instructed to infiltrate vets’ groups like the AVC, said the NPC, and Communists had habitually forced progressive groups away from effective action with its attacks on those who did not follow the party line. The NPC restated that the group was nonpartisan, but it claimed that Communists could not truly abide by the AVC’s principles of freedom as Communist vets were “a minority group unquestioningly obeying leaders whose objectives, including a totalitarian dictatorship of the extreme left, are irreconcilable with those of the AVC.”50 The NPC was in good company in the immediate postwar years in its attempts to separate progressive action from the taint of Communism. After the war, liberals and labor leaders split into camps over the Communist issue. Progressive groups like the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) instigated purges of their Communist members. An even more dramatic struggle was taking place in the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO), as anti-Communist members organized by Walter Reuther attacked the entrenched Communist presence found throughout the union’s leadership. In 1947, a group of prominent antiCommunist liberals formed the Americans for Democratic Action (ADA). These liberals were concerned that the political left in the United States was in danger of being dominated by a more pro-Soviet position held by groups like the Progressive Citizens of America. With the support of prominent intellectuals like John Kenneth Galbraith and Arthur Schlesinger Jr. and labor leaders like David Dubinsky and Walter Reuther, this small but influential organization was able to provide a coherent vision of leadership for the anti-Communist left. Two other prominent members of the ADA were Franklin Delano Roosevelt Jr. and Charles Bolté, sending a clear message to many radicals within the AVC where the group’s leaders stood on the Communist issue. The conflict that was growing in the AVC was in many ways representative of the increasing

142

SETTLING DOWN

division within the American Left regarding Communism and the developing cold war.51 The NPC knew what the fallout might be with this strong stance on Communism. In its statement, the NPC declared “we are unhappily aware that we shall be accused from some quarters of having joined forces with those distasteful spokesmen of the right who have loosely and maliciously applied the label ‘Communist’ to many commendable organizations.” But even with their liberal convictions against anti-Communist scare tactics, the AVC was responding to the power that the red-baiting attacks had on the group. The NPC members felt that the AVC would be rendered ineffectual by charges of Communist infiltration in the charged atmosphere of the growing cold war with the Soviet Union, and the liberal tolerance for different political opinions within the group withered quickly in the face of attacks from anti-Communists. In order to save their organization from political isolation, the liberal leaders of the AVC sought to purge their ranks of those who provided their opposition fuel for potent attacks. If the AVC was to continue to provide effective leadership for America’s progressive veterans, certain concessions to the culture of consensus had to be made. For their part, Communist members of the AVC alienated much of the membership by following the Soviet line on issues of foreign policy and using heavy-handed tactics to gain control of the organization. In the postwar era, the Communist Party of the United States (CPUSA) was unfailingly loyal to the Soviet Union in international affairs, even after the Soviets instituted authoritarian control of Eastern European nations, such as Czechoslovakia. Americans liberals were skeptical of making alliances with Communists who so dutifully carried out the Soviet Union’s bidding.52 Beyond this, the Communists’ insistence on using some of the same strategies to dominate unions to control AVC chapters hurt their ability to appeal to non-Communist members in the ensuing factional struggles. Arnold Feldman described his frustration with the tactics of a small, but determined group of radical members at the University of Indiana chapter. Their constant push to pass resolutions against American foreign policy and attempts to control the chapter’s leadership quickly lost the Communists any standing with the liberal majority of the chapter. This pattern was repeated in chapters across the country.53 The failure of the Communists to try and bridge practical and ideological differences with their liberal comrades in the AVC created a deep chasm that was only exacerbated by growing cold war tensions.

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

143

The NPC did not attempt to squelch all dissent after the resolution, however. In what appeared to be an attempt to emphasize its liberal belief in free speech after the NPC’s statement against Communism, the AVC Bulletin contained opinions both for and against the leadership’s actions. One letter to the editor accused the NPC of engaging in the same tactics as anti-Communists of the right and stated “are you so profoundly ignorant that you do not realize that you are playing into the hands of the reactionary newspapers and columnists?” Feeling that “a man’s political opinions are his own business,” another foe of the resolution reminded the Bulletin’s readers that “thousands of Communists gave their lives in this war for democracy” leading the writer to argue “that giving their lives is proof enough of the sincerity of their belief in democratic principles.”54 The strength of these opinions defending Communists’ rights testified to the support that radicals had in the AVC. Saddled by financial and organizational limitations compared to rival groups, by February 1947, the AVC still claimed to have one hundred thousand members and chapters in most states. Although not approaching the numbers of the Legion or the VFW, the AVC had made impressive strides in membership and notoriety in a short time and had the possibility of being a strong progressive voice into the 1950s. However, the Communist label that conservatives had attached to the group brought stiff opposition to the AVC at the state and national level. In February 1947, the AVC was barred from testifying before the House Committee for Veterans Affairs, the most important government forum for veterans’ issue. Reactionary Mississippi congressman John Rankin introduced a ruling that limited participation to groups who were made up of “active, participating veterans of American Wars.” Rankin ruled that the AVC, which included members of the merchant marine and Americans who served in foreign armies, did not fit these guidelines. The move was clearly designed to isolate the AVC, who had incurred Rankin’s wrath over both the Communist issue and the group’s position on African American civil rights. Though it publicly denounced Communism, the group was unable to lobby enough support to repeal the ban, and the AVC was barred from the committee for two years.55 Similar efforts were made to prevent the group from testifying before state committees in Florida and California. The problems became so pronounced that the AVC expelled its merchant-marine members to prevent these types of attacks.56 With a large part of its national lobbying efforts damaged by the ban, the AVC’s ability to speak on veterans’ issues, such an important

144

SETTLING DOWN

part of any vet organization’s appeal to new members, was jeopardized. The AVC’s progressive ideals and radical membership put the group in conflict with the consensus notions developing in the United States, and the fallout from the organization’s political positions in cold war America disrupted its ability to present the views of progressive servicemen. The AVC faced further problems. Citing the fact that “the Bureau’s attention has been called to the numerous local chapters of the American Veterans Committee which have been infiltrated by Communists,” J. Edgar Hoover formally asked the attorney general for permission to launch a nationwide investigation of the AVC in January 1946. Though Hoover believed that “the controlling body of the national organization appears to have taken an anti-Communist stand,” the director still felt that the local branches were havens of Communist activity.57 FBI regional offices from Anchorage to Washington, DC were authorized to conduct in-depth searches into local AVC chapters’ activities and to document subversive activity. Still concerned about publicity, the memo outlining the investigation cautioned that “utmost discretion should be exercised.”58 Anti-Communism continued to destroy the group from within as well. In January 1947, Franklin Roosevelt Jr., attacked Communist members of the AVC for instigating the factionalism that was hurting the party. In a speech for the Friends of Democracy, Roosevelt stated, “The Commies moved in, and from a flowering, inspiring group of young Americans, interested in their nation’s welfare, we have become a tattered and torn group.”59 His editorial in the Bulletin in June was more restrained, but the message was just as clear. Roosevelt described mass action efforts, such as a group of radical vets’ (many who were members of the AVC) takeover of the New York State Senate Chamber in October 1946 to protest housing conditions, as ill-informed, ineffective wastes of energy. Roosevelt felt that well-planned actions for change, much like the National Housing Conference he would help organize, would be the keys to success. He concluded, “Action should not be taken just as an end for its own sake, but it must be a carefully worked out means of accomplishing a good and desirable end.” Though he did not mention Communism or any members of the AVC specifically, Roosevelt was obviously directing his criticisms at the radical members of the AVC.60 FBI reports reveal the same internal fighting that was occurring at the national level was hurting activities in the local chapters as well. In Norman, Oklahoma, the chairman of the local chapter resigned complaining of Communist dominance.61 In Massachusetts, the 1947 state

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

145

convention saw the radical wing of the state AVC pushed out in favor of anti-Communist candidates.62 In Philadelphia, anti-Communist AVC members applied to the national office for the right to form a new chapter because they believed the local one in their area was dominated by Communists.63 The AVC’s leadership was working effectively against the radical wing at the national level, but the individual chapters were full of conflict between competing camps. Even as the AVC was being hurt by infighting over the Communist issue, the group was still able to field an impressive convention in late June, bringing more than 1,300 delegates and 400 other members to Milwaukee to debate the fate of the organization. In his address to the convention as national chairman, Charles Bolté presented some impressive numbers to the audience. In one year, the group had increased to 100,000 members and had added more than 400 new chapters.64 Although the AVC suffered from financial difficulties, its sizable growth could give its members hope for continued success in the future. Bolté lashed out against “old-time veterans’ organizations,” “the extreme right,” and “the uninformed and apathetic” as the forces in America that were working against the AVC’s progressive agenda using antiCommunist scare tactics. He continued his denunciations of the witch-hunt mentality of the growing cold war, stating, “Nothing we do or say will silence all the denunciations: for it is a leading trait of neurotic immaturity to single out a scapegoat on which to blame one’s own misfortunes and failures.” The anger almost all delegates felt toward hysterical red-baiting on the right might have bridged the schism in the AVC’s membership, but even a group committed to progressive ideals and eager to take on conservatives in the United States could not overcome the divisive issue of Communist influence that had paralyzed the organization. Far from trying to heal the wounds caused by the NPC’s resolution, Bolté continued by reaffirming the group’s commitment to resisting any Communist influence: “We oppose the methods and objectives of the American Communist Party, we are determined to maintain the independence and integrity of AVC. We are entitled to expect this forthright statement of independence at every level of leadership in AVC, as we are entitled to expect an active leadership that believes passionately in freedom and uses it to build an ever-improved life for all. For the rest, we can do nothing more but go on to prove by our actions the fundamentally American nature of our program, and its independence from anybody’s party line.”65 Bolté emphasized the continued effort by NPC members to limit

146

SETTLING DOWN

the Communist influence within the group’s ranks in order to guarantee that red-hunters’ charges against the AVC were entirely groundless. The debate over the anti-Communist resolution was so heated that three different caucuses formed at the convention, demonstrating the commitment members had to fight for control of the organization. The “Independent Progressives” supported by Charles Bolté, Gilbert Harrison, Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr., Oren Root Jr. and most of the NPC were the standard bearers for the liberal anti-Communist line that had led to the NPC’s resolution. In opposition, a Unity group, supported by the AVC’s radicals, and a “Build AVC” faction, made up of nonCommunists who disliked the NPC’s “machine politics,” also made a small showing. Though a headline in the AVC Bulletin declared that the convention’s “Politicking Is More Mature This Year than in 1946,” the various caucuses jockeyed for control with threats of nominating new candidates in the middle of the election process and other plots. Both the Independent Progressives and the Unity factions published their own pamphlets. In their discussion of their platform, the Unity members charged that the national leadership was out of control, attacking “First the Communists, then the secret Communists, then anybody who disagrees with the self appointed judges.”66 Neither side was willing to back down from this fight. Delegate Bill Mauldin satirized the proceedings in a cartoon distributed at the convention. It depicted three angry delegates for the various factions standing on soap boxes and pointing fingers at one another. Despite the fact that the three delegates carried crowns in their hands, they were shouting “YA GAH-DAM KINGMAKERS!” at one another, the term often employed by AVC members against the lobbying efforts of the American Legion. Mauldin’s drawing added some levity to the convention’s backbiting, but the group was obviously struggling in the midst of bitter disagreements.67 The last-minute machinations of the Unity and Build AVC groups proved futile, however, and the delegates overwhelmingly supported the Independent Progressive candidates. Chat Paterson was elected national chairman two-to-one over the Unity candidate and four-to-one over the Build AVC nominee. In addition, most of the NPC positions went to the Independent Progressives, effectively shutting out the far left of the AVC and seemingly deciding the Communist question once and for all. Made up of the group’s founders and most prominent members, the Independent Progressives had the advantage going into the convention,

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

147

and their convincing victory ensured the AVC would stay on its current course against Communism. With the political climate in the country turning more conservative, many members probably saw the NPC’s stand against Communism as a last ditch effort to save America’s liberal veterans’ organization from political marginalization or extinction. Although the new national commander insisted that members “must take the lead on both the local and national scene in providing a strong bulwark against fear, hysteria, depression, and war,” he echoed Bolté’s pledge that the AVC would be “independent in its approach and forthright in its determination to keep clear of any group which would attempt to use the organization for its own ends.”68 Liberals were not through dealing with the Communist question. Opponents of the resolution against Communism still held prominent posts, especially in New York and California. The year1948 would prove to be crucial in the battle for control of both the AVC and the American left. Communist and fellow travelers continued to attack Truman’s hostile stance to the Soviet Union and criticized the proposed Marshall Plan to rebuild Europe as a capitalist attempt to subjugate socialism in a warravaged Europe. Pro-Soviet positions put the Communists and the far left in opposition to the overwhelming majority of Americans and their liberal opponents quickly attempted to marginalize their voices. By tying themselves so closely to Soviet positions on international affairs and not working on the national and local issues that had helped to build support for political radicals, American Communists and fellow travelers were increasingly open to attack by anti-Communist liberals in the growing culture of consensus.69 The candidacy of former vice president and New Deal icon Henry A. Wallace on the Progressive Party ticket further split the American left. Wallace was critical of Truman’s aggressive stance toward the Soviet Union and, after being forced by the president to resign his position as Secretary of Commerce, ran his own presidential campaign to unify liberal opposition to Truman. Many liberals did not find Truman to be an appealing candidate, but his positions on the Soviet Union guaranteed him much of the support he needed from the left. Anti-Communists in the ADA and CIO were angered by Wallace’s campaign, which they felt would split the Democratic vote, and attacked his supporters as Communists and radicals that were out of touch with the majority of Americans. Wallace’s campaign was never able to overcome these charges, and he did not gain enough support to hurt Truman’s reelection bid. The

148

SETTLING DOWN

failure of Wallace’s campaign was proof to many American liberals that the radical left in America had little influence, and they looked to rid progressive politics from the taint of Communist influence.70 The AVC was a microcosm of this fracturing of the American left as the organization continued to be plagued by factional strife over the status of Communists in its ranks. In California, supposed Communist influence within the state’s AVC chapters led many liberals, including well-known figures such as Will Rogers Jr., to abandon the veteran’s group. Urging other members to follow his example, the former congressman stated, “We lost a battle here in California. We should leave the Communists with their empty shell. To remain in the State organization is to give assistance to America’s enemies.”71 The loss of membership due to Communist influence was the chief fear among the group’s national leadership and showed that the NPC’s efforts to prove the group was not a Communist front had not been as effective as hoped. With this climate of factional squabbling, two incidents in 1948 led to a final break between the AVC’s liberal and radical wings. The AVC’s liberal leadership fired the first shot with the suspension of New York member Richard Crohn for violating the group’s pledge of nonpartisanship. Crohn had spoken against universal military training at an American Labor Party rally, which also was used to publicize the campaign of Henry Wallace.72 Then it was reported that John Gates, editor of the Communist Party newspaper the Daily Worker, was a member of the AVC and that the national leadership was moving to expel him. Gates was already under indictment with eleven other party leaders for violation of the Smith Act barring advocacy of the overthrow of the government, and the AVC now took the opportunity to officially throw out Communist members from its ranks.73 Gates refused to back down. Issuing his own statement in the Daily Worker, Gates found the AVC’s charges “almost too childish to answer” and claimed that Communists could hold positions in progressive organizations, “aiding their members to fight for a better life by day.”74 But the NPC still moved to rescind his membership, finally taking steps to go beyond resolutions and officially expel Communists from their ranks in an effort to rid itself of its reputation as a Red Front. Things proceeded to get worse for the AVC as the New York branches continued their defiance of the NPC’s actions against Communism and political radicalism. At the September meeting of the New York branches, forty chapters voted to seat suspended delegate Richard Crohn. This defiance of the

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

149

NPC’s actions against Crohn led the national leadership to institute hearings on whether the rebellious chapters should be expelled from the organization. After legal injunctions and more infighting, a hearing board was convened for the New York branches and suspensions were recommended. The national office suspended the charters of sixteen individual chapters and started to reorganize the entire structure of the New York AVC.75 After all of the bitterness, most of the leadership was looking to put the Communist issue behind the group. Looking forward to the national convention in Cleveland, another short piece by the editor urged unity and optimism in the post-Communist future of the AVC: Too many thousands of us have given too much sweat and time to the organization to allow a few selfish, ambitious men to destroy us. Men whose ties outside the organization makes it impossible for them to be impartial, are best off in position[s] where they do not shape policy. . . . The heavy investment in time and work is much too big to let AVC go down. We are going to Cleveland to correct some of the mistakes AVC made this past year, but not to destroy it. We are going to Cleveland this Thanksgiving—still firm in the belief that 20,000 inspired men can sell it [to] 200,000 others—yes, even 2,000,000.76

Here the Bulletin gave voice to the relief that many members felt now that Communists would be expelled from the group but also hinted at the declining membership numbers that had been kept quiet since the 1947 convention. All veterans groups saw a dip in membership after 1947, but the AVC’s fall from a high of one hundred thousand the year before to only twenty thousand members suggested that the organization was quickly becoming a marginal player on the national stage. The battle over the Communist presence within the group proved how destructive the politics of the cold war could be in the postwar era.77 Still worried about the radical presence at the coming convention, the AVC leadership turned to other groups with more experience fighting Communist infiltration. In 1947, labor activist Gus Tyler was called in to talk to his boss, David Dubinsky of the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. Dubinsky ordered Tyler, a veteran, to join the AVC to help the leadership weed out its Communist wing. To this point, Tyler had little interest in joining any veterans’ group. Dubinksy explained to Tyler that Oren Root had visited the labor leader in order to get ideas about how to get rid of the Communists. Dubinsky laughed at the

150

SETTLING DOWN

naiveté of AVC’s liberals and doubted they could get rid of the Communists without help. Tyler, who was “raised as a political street fighter,” was brought on board to oust Communists from the AVC. Tyler gave the liberal wing of the AVC the experience it needed to deal with the Communists and their tactics that had so enraged and confounded the group’s liberal leadership. Before the convention, he went on a nationwide tour of AVC chapters and discovered that many chapters were paper organizations created by the Communists to gain more delegates at the convention. Fearing this tactic might shift the balance of power, Tyler used his connections with the country’s industrial unions. Walter Reuther of the United Auto Workers (UAW) pledged to create AVC chapters among his members, and other unions pledged their support as well to balance the number of delegates at the convention. As Tyler predicted, the AVC’s third convention in Cleveland proved to be another wrestling match with the group’s radical faction. At the convention, the NPC’s leaders were ready for a fight with the “East Wing,” as they dubbed the AVC’s radicals who “look to the East for guidance—not to the left.” Tyler brought more of his experience to the fight by creating three different types of special committees to support the Independent Progressives. First, he enlisted the aid of two or three dozen men and women to act as “meeters and greeters.” Their job was to sign up as many sympathetic AVC members as possible to the Independent Progressive platform and to take the opposition delegates out to the bars if there were any close committee votes. Another group was the “rumor mongers” who planted true and false information used to discredit the Unity faction or erode its support. Lastly, Tyler got members to counteract the Communist tactic of drawing out committee meetings into the early morning hours and then voting on issues when only their members remained. Tyler had designated members assigned to waking and sleeping hours. If a committee vote was to be held, he alerted members who raced to the phones and woke up supporters to vote against Unity positions. Sometimes supporters arrived in their pajamas.78 These tactics, along with the Unity faction’s challenge of popular programs like the Marshall Plan, led to its marginalization within the AVC. The convention was a complete victory for the liberals, as supporters of the AVC’s anti-Communist positions were elected to the national chairmanship, vice-chairmanship, and all the seats on the NPC. In addition, the convention voted to suspend the New York chapters and defeated resolutions to reinstate the recently expelled members. The headline in the December issue of the Bulletin “‘East-Wingers’ Bite-The-Dust”

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

151

nicely summed up the overwhelming victory and control of the group established by the liberal wing of the AVC.79 New Chairman Gilbert Harrison and Vice-Chairman Joe Cloerty pledged to “carry out energetically our mandate to clean out and keep out members of the Communist Party from our ranks, with a minimum of internal strife and external publicity.” An editorial from the Bulletin, with the title “If the Shoe Fits, Put It on and Walk,” was just as blunt: “The long distracting debate is over. The overwhelming majority of delegates at the Cleveland convention decreed that no member of the Communist Party is eligible for membership in AVC. It’s your move, Comrade. We’ve heard a lot about the Communist’s devotion to democracy. If any Party member still remains in our ranks, let him prove his sincerity by respecting the democratically-made decision of the majority. Let him leave.”80 With their victory, the AVC’s liberals sought to get the more unified group back on track and fulfill its early promise. Much of the damage had been done, however. The Bulletin failed to mention the number of delegates who appeared at the 1948 convention, perhaps not wanting to depress its readers with the low turnout. An article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer put the AVC’s membership at twenty thousand in 1948.81 By 1949, membership was so low that the group talked about merging with the AMVETS veterans’ group, a move that would have been unthinkable in 1946. At the AVC’s fourth convention in Chicago, the group could only muster about five hundred delegates but still had to fight off a challenge of the remaining “East-Wing” at the convention. The Bulletin continued to rail against “the persistent effort of a disciplined minority which, if it no longer believes it can rule, may now wish to wreck.” But the AVC appears to have had little to fear. In 1949, FBI surveillance reported that Communists had lost their influence within the group, and the bureau’s investigations appear to have been halted.82 In January 1950, the Bulletin headlined that the “Last Outpost of the East-Wing in West Folds” as the dissenting chapters in California voted to disband. The NPC dispatched a coordinator to take over the chapters’ assets, and the departing members went on to form a separate group, the Progressive Veterans of America.83 With the dissenters of New York and California effectively removed from further meetings, the liberals appeared to be free to dictate the course of the AVC without the opposition from radicals or the stain of Communist influence. But what was left of the AVC? The NPC may have rid itself of much of the radical wing, but in the furor over its battles with radicals, the organization depleted much of its national appeal. The AVC continued on as an

152

SETTLING DOWN

organization until 2001 and engaged in significant lobbying efforts on civil rights and various veterans’ issues. The AVC made up for its early inattention to women’s issues by issuing several reports on the dismal Veterans Administration facilities for women. In the 1950s and after, the concerns of women veterans were a significant part of the AVC’s agenda.84 But even as the group stayed true to its liberal principles, it failed to regain its previous membership numbers. With its weakening, progressive World War II veterans lost a powerful national voice that could compete with the conservative American Legion to emphasize their concerns for postwar America. Beyond the Communist infighting that hurt the group, the AVC was never able to expand its numbers to compete with other veterans’ organizations. Its liberal and sometimes radical politics certainly did not appeal to all veterans. The emphasis that the group placed on larger political concerns instead of local issues might have also hurt its standing among vets. In a national planning meeting, committee member Merle Miller hypothesized on the AVC’s failure to retain members: “Some of our chapters spend so much time taking stands on different national problems and do not spend much time on domestic problems. . . . One of the important reasons our membership drops off is simply they do not have enough to do. Once they have passed 86 resolutions on Spain or OPA, etc., they have ended their activities for the month.”85 Arnold Feldman suggested that the AVC did not do enough to counsel returning vets, like the VFW or the Legion, and Ben Neufeld felt that the group’s stand against veterans’ bonuses might have hurt its appeal.86 Although all of these factors may have hindered the group’s appeal, it was the AVC’s strong progressive positions and initial willingness to work with radicals that doomed any chances to effectively compete with the Legion and VFW at the national level. Within the growing cold war climate of the immediate postwar years, liberal groups like the AVC were open to attacks no matter what their positions. By joining with radicals to form the organization, the AVC was an easy target for anti-Communist attacks from opponents. When the group did take a hard-line against radical members and adopted some of the anti-Communist rhetoric the period, the resulting struggles hurt the AVC’s ability to portray itself as a viable challenge to more conservative veterans’ organizations. When asked who was to blame for the AVC’s decline, former AVC member and Unity caucus supporter Howard Zinn stated that even without the factional struggles, the progressive AVC had little chance for success in the conservative cold war America of the 1950s.87 As the cold war

“CITIZENS FIRST, VETERANS SECOND”

153

began to polarize Americans, the AVC was forced to respond to antiCommunist charges at the expense of providing strong leadership for veterans looking for alternatives to the American Legion or VFW. But the potential for a sustained, organized movement of progressive-minded veterans was hampered by the damaging positions and aggressive tactics of its Communist members, as well as the effectiveness of antiCommunist charges in eliminating common ground between radical and liberal factions within the group. Without an organization dedicated to hearing the views of all servicemen, those veterans who held opinions that clashed with increasing social and political conservatism in the United States had an even more difficult time making their voices heard in the climate of consensus in postwar America.

This page intentionally left blank

5

“The Negro Is No Longer Sleeping” African American Veterans and the Limits of Consensus

Many black men are giving their lives in this war. This is a white man’s war, not a Negroe’s [sic]. Though I was born in this country, why should I give my life away for something by which the white race as a whole may profit by. To hell with the five freedoms. They’re only the figurehead for the white man’s sovereignty, over there in foxholes, they’re equal. Like two brothers, but over here the black man wouldn’t by any means be accepted into society. Freedom is won only on the battlefield. So the Negro must by all means rise, come forward and express himself to white society. Viva Viva le Negro Race.1 I have, and I will tell all crackers I came in the army not only to fight but to die fighting one way or the other.2 The Negro soldiers in this war, many of whom have never been out of their country before have lived in France, England, and India, where they have been treated with courtesy and respect which is due a human being. After the victory is won and these men return to civilian life, they will be unwilling to again accept second-class citizenship. They will not let white people, especially in the South, tell them where they can rent a home; they will not be segregated in the back of a bus; they will not let a business man who has gotten rich during the war, tell them, when they apply for a skilled job, “we only hire colored as janitors.” I served notice today that if these are attempted, America will be trying to put a square peg in a round hole and

156

SETTLING DOWN

will cause trouble. We on the home front have a responsibility to those who have fought and died in foreign lands for democracy to let them share in it when they return to this country.3

ike their white comrades, African American soldiers sought to bring changes to the home front at the conclusion to World War II, but the shape and strength of their challenge to American society proved to be dramatically different from other disgruntled veterans. Though nominally fighting for ideals of freedom and democracy abroad, black soldiers faced the double burden of fighting for their country while they struggled against the repressive segregation of the Jim Crow armed forces. Harassment and violence from white soldiers and civilians toward African American soldiers was commonplace, and blacks had to fight for equal opportunities for advancement within the service. Often relegated to segregated units and assigned to unsavory tasks, African American soldiers were not allowed to forget that they were fighting for a nation that treated them as second-class citizens. Upon their return, however, African American veterans offered a sustained and powerful critique of racial inequality in the United States and defied the 1950s culture of consensus that sought to limit criticism of the nation. African American respondents to The American Soldier surveys complained of their bitterness toward a nation that refused to treat them with the same regard that the country had reserved for its white heroes. Motivated by their war service, many black vets were ready to take on entrenched racial prejudice back home. Although white America largely left black soldiers out of appeals for veterans to lead the postwar nation, the African American community urged black vets to become the backbone of civil rights activism. Supported by their communities and motivated by their war experiences, black veterans pressed for equal rights and, even in the face of racist violence and intimidation, continued to call attention to failures in America’s commitment to equality and democracy. African American veterans encountered resistance to their civil rights efforts in postwar America, particularly in their challenge to consensus norms that urged citizens to look to authorities to solve the nation’s problems. In calling attention to racial divisions within America, black veterans were undermining the image of national unity that lay at the heart of the growing consensus culture. In publicizing inequality, activists were able to inspire the federal government to work for changes. But when government efforts to end racist practices fell short of black veterans’ expectations, they ignored consensus calls for patience and

L

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

157

became a significant force in the postwar struggle for African American civil rights. An understanding of the different experiences of African American and white soldiers, both in the service and after their return stateside, provides clues as to why the challenge that black veterans presented to racism in the United States was so resistant to the postwar consensus culture and its insistence on unity. Given the tremendous social, political, and cultural upheaval of World War II, the postwar era provided the African American community an ideal time to make headway on the problems of racial prejudice in the United States. During the war, blacks were an integral part of the country’s workforce and armed forces. Black laborers left the South in even greater numbers than during the Great Migration of the 1920s, as African Americans moved to the nation’s industrial centers to provide workers for the boom in wartime production. With new jobs at good salaries, African Americans also saw a rise in their income and purchasing power. In addition, more than one million blacks were members of the armed services, comprising more than 10 percent of the armed forces. With their important roles in the success of the nation’s war against Fascism, African American organizations pressed for increased social and political reform. The “Double V” campaign started by the Pittsburgh Courier, which urged Americans to work for victory in war and victory over racism, was a symbol of African Americans commitment to racial equality during the war years. The Roosevelt administration narrowly headed off a march on Washington organized by African American organizations in protest of discrimination in the defense industry hiring by creating the Fair Employment Practices Committee (FEPC) to ensure that blacks would be treated fairly in the labor market. Pressure from African American activists led to a waiver of poll taxes for black soldiers and Justice Department investigations of lynching. Civil rights groups like the NAACP saw a dramatic rise in membership as African Americans began to increasingly challenge racial prejudice in the United States. From a membership of just fifty thousand in 1940, by the war’s end the NAACP could claim nine times that number, including fifteen thousand members of the armed forces.4 It was into this climate of increased civil rights activism that African American soldiers returned after their military service, and black veterans would have to decide what role they wished to play in the African American community following the war. One study has suggested that African American veterans might have been more willing to distance

158

SETTLING DOWN

themselves from their communities and civil rights struggles in favor of pursuing individual economic opportunity, but other scholars have documented black veterans’ commitment to civil right activism in the postwar era.5 In her examination of the GI Bill and its encouragement of World War II veterans’ civic participation, Suzanne Mettler has found that “black veterans who obtained an advanced education—available to them through the G.I. bill—were especially likely to become activists and participate intensely in the political struggles through which civil rights were won.”6 And in examining the importance of ex-servicemen in civil rights activism in Mississippi during the postwar era, John Dittmer writes that black veterans were “the shock troops of the modern civil rights movement.”7 But what in African American soldiers’ experiences in World War II encouraged them to work for change upon their return home? As they do for white soldiers, The American Soldier surveys provide a glimpse into the concerns of black servicemen. The study’s compilers created special surveys for African American troops and attempted to understand differences between the opinions of black and white soldiers. When commenting on their military experience or the future of postwar America, many African American soldiers echoed white soldiers in their thoughts and complaints. Researchers found that black and white soldiers revealed the same attitudes toward their general adjustment to life in the military. A closer look at the open-ended responses to the surveys also shows black servicemen held some of the same criticism of their officers, the same frustration over arbitrary authority found in army life, and the same anger over quality-of-life issues, such as food and medical attention, as white servicemen. Also similar to many white soldiers, black respondents were worried that their place in the postwar nation had changed in their absence and were concerned about educational and employment opportunities upon their return: Why in the hell do they keep a man from his wife and children so long. I myself cant see why they think a man should like the army or want to keep on fighting. I am a colored man and I don’t think I have anything to fight for according to the way I have been treated. So as long as I am in it I’ll do my best. But to hell with the army and it’s orders. Because I use [sic] to be my own boss and I don’t like people fucking with me.8 After the war things will have to change in the United States. The soldier who returns home will expect, and should have, a good job. Now we are in

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

159

the army the people on the outside are making good money. When we return we expect just as much if we do the same type of work. Before the next war the United States should have enough men available to have all the officers they would need. Some of the officers they have now “stink.” I don’t guess I need to say anything about the way Negro troops are treated while in the army. The U.S., as far as Negro soldiers are concerned, does nothing to help. Keep morale up; or make a Negro proud of his uniform. Most of the soldiers returning home will find things changed. What most of them will want to know is just where can I get a job.9

Many soldiers of different races shared some of the same ideas about the war and the home front, but the difference in treatment of African Americans and whites in the armed forces and in American society ensured that black soldiers’ concerns about their treatment and their return to civilian life were more often focused on issues of racial inequality. Black soldiers were so vocal about referring to their complaints in racialized terms that the social scientists of The American Soldier surveys had a difficult time distinguishing commonplace complaints about life in the army from those specifically targeting racial prejudice. In a chapter entitled “Negro Soldiers,” the researchers explained this dilemma: “It is noteworthy that the phrases which white enlisted men used to express their dissatisfaction with the military system were in many instances exact duplicates of phrases which some of the more vocal Negro civilians have been using for years with reference to their treatment at the hands of white society. . . . It becomes understandable how situations which called forth in whites’ reactions similar to those of a discriminated-against minority might be interpreted by that minority as another manifestation of the unequal treatment accorded Negroes, rather than as a general problem common to all soldiers.”10 This tendency to view complaints through the lens of race did not lead the researchers to conclude that black soldiers were overreacting to military hardships, however. The American Soldier and subsequent studies of black participation in the armed forces in World War II reveal many of the difficulties faced by African American soldiers as they tried to serve their country. Black soldiers routinely encountered racism at home and abroad, sometimes from superiors who openly questioned blacks’ moral and mental fitness for duty. Often assigned to bases in the South for training, African American soldiers suffered the indignities of Jim Crow laws and, in some cases, violence from hostile whites. Further, blacks were often hampered by racial prejudice in the military when they sought to

160

SETTLING DOWN

enter Officer’s Candidate School or other programs that could aid in their advancement. The difficulties faced by African Americans in the “separate but equal” military did little to strengthen black citizens’ faith in the ideals of democracy, which they were nominally defending.11 The oppressive conditions faced by African American recruits were a major factor in many black vets’ anger toward the military and helped to fuel their postwar activism against racial prejudice. Again, responses to The American Soldier surveys provide a window into the thinking of African American soldiers during their time in the service, as many black respondents attacked segregation in the army and complained about the pervasive racism that was particularly noticeable on Southern bases: I spent two months training in Alabama, and could not go to a decent show for the white soldiers went. And civilian police really hate a colored man in uniform. Was almost shot for no reason at all and can prove it. I was more or less proud of my uniform until then. I don’t have any soldering hart [sic] since then. . . . I want to put my hart [sic] into, but I am living in constant fear that I will be sent South again, and if I am, I know I will be greeted with the same unfair practise [sic] as before. I would like to feel that my people all over the country will be benefited by my sacrifice.12 The average American looks and wonders why the colored soldier’s morale is so low. For some reason they send the majority of the northern boys south, where they have to put up with some of the most sordid and morale breaking conditions possible. We are subject to Jim Crow, inferior recreational and transportation facilities, and in some cases are given some peckerwood cotton pickers as officers. And still after all of that you people expect us to be bubbling over with military enthusiasm. “It beats the hell out of me.”13 I think the Army is a hell of an organization when it makes no attempts to protect the lives of some of its men from the narrow, bigoted citizens, no not citizens but denizens of the south. These people are trying to beat the Japs in the number of Negro servicemen they kill. And the Army stands by and watches it uniform dragged thru the mud and nailed to the cross at every turn.14 Personally I . . . wouldn’t care if Tojo himself did come and take over Miss. and all the other Southern states. He wouldn’t be any worse than these people.15

Other respondents used the survey, mocking the questions asked, to cleverly dramatize the inequalities of the segregated nation and its army:

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

161

[space divided in two] This for colored. This for whites. [written in middle is the following] Democracy in action! [Author divides page two also and writes only on side labeled “colored”] A colored 2nd lt. is the same as a white PFC. Camp is a center of the worship of the Supreme white father (Amen!) But Jap bullets don’t discriminate because of a man’s color do they? Hell no! As you noticed I am staying on my side of the page. I apologize for writing on this white paper but there isn’t any carbon paper handy. In closing I want to know when your next war bond rally is as I want to buy a black bond!16

Black soldiers often directed their attacks at some of the more galling examples of the contradictions of segregation. One in particular that African American veterans found so appalling was the treatment provided foreign prisoners of war, prompting one respondent to proclaim “America is treating the POW better than they are treating the NEGRO SOLDIERS.”17 Black soldiers chafed against reports of German prisoners in the South being allowed to eat in segregated lunch counters or train cars that were denied to black servicemen. These insulting examples of racist illogic led black soldiers to lash out at their treatment and famous Southern segregationists such as Theodore Bilbo, James Eastland, John Rankin, and Ed Smith: First I didn’t see why a Negro soldier riding on and [sic] army bus has to ride in the back when a German or an Italian who have probably killed and beaten up your brother, or mine, ride in front. The Southern white man has even posted signs in army camps for Negroes to use separate toilets, as if their asses aren’t human. I think it should be two armies, the black and white. In fact they should send a army their way instead of going oversees. The whole army, the white Southern bastard Navy marines and all can kiss my Black Ass. P.S. A person like Senator Billbo I would like to suck my dick.18 Shoot Bilbo, the Senator from Miss. Hang Eastland, Senator and send me the hell out of the army.19 1. Is the poll tax money being used for national defence? 2. Why not put “in Jim Crow we trust” on the five cent pieces? 3. When will Sen. Bilbo run for the presidency? 4. Of course “Rankin for vice president” 5. Make “mister” “Cotton Ed” Smiths home a national shrine. 6. Why not use the brass rails and the separation chain for scrap drives. 7. Include the following in the point system[:] A. foreign service below the mason dixon line with battle stars and scars. B. frequency of trips in Jim Crow cars C. no. of insults to white supremacy D. no. of years served in actual segregation E. benefits for

162

SETTLING DOWN

dependents of victims who were hung since Dec 7, 1941. G.I. Bill of rights (J. crow) A. special courses in humility and appreciation of white supremacy B. Poll tax exemption for one year C. reorientation of southern dialects to those fortunate enough to have been overseas D. loans up to 25 dollars for black veterans. E. Standard course cotton picking and music appreciation course in how to sing “Mammy” song.20

The American Soldier reported that like white soldiers, black soldiers had little faith in the ideological motivations for military service espoused on the home front and in the military, but the surveys did show that blacks “were less likely than whites to express the same sense of identification with the war or to endorse idealistic views of the war.”21 Their poor treatment led black soldiers to feel they had little stake in the war effort and that they would not receive the same benefits from victory in the conflict as white Americans: I think the test as a rule was a waster of time. A few channels has been opened for the Negro both as a soldier and a civilian but only as an appeasement. We have nothing in particular to fight for . . . as [a] soldier I must fight or die. I will fight but not religiously. I will fight because I know I cannot win.22 Is Democracy supposed to be for the white or colored? It can’t possibly be the later [sic]. What are we, am I really fighting for? If its what the newspapers claim, I can’t appreciate it, nor the fact I’m segregated on a so-called Negro Post, the street cars, theaters, restaurants in a so-called democratic country. There must be a hidden reason. Has Germany treated the Jews more harshly than the Southern and Northern “crackers” treated the American Negro? Of course the answer is yes but they never claimed to be a true Democracy and we have.23 If we aren’t treated equally in the army how can you expect us to be patriotic? There isn’t a better fighter or a harder worker in the world that [sic] the Negro, but how can he put these good qualities to use for Uncle Sam if Uncle Sam won’t keep his back covered.24

This last comment reflected the feelings of a large number of black servicemen who felt that they were not being allowed to show their patriotism. Many African American soldiers felt that white authorities did not want to give them a chance to demonstrate their prowess on the battlefield and thereby improve their case for equal treatment back home.25 The segregation of the military and the failure of the government to fully

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

163

utilize the abilities of black soldiers further inspired African American veterans to combat racial discrimination upon their return to the United States. The concerns and sentiments found in the soldiers’ surveys are also reflected in the soldiers’ complaints sent to the NAACP and government agencies by African American soldiers. Black soldiers criticized segregated military facilities, the failure of African Americans to receive promotions, and the hostility black troops faced from both civilians and superiors. African American soldiers were often discouraged or forbidden from fraternization with foreigners while abroad, especially women. The lack of respect shown African American soldiers transferred over into feelings of anger and disillusionment. In their letters to the NAACP, soldiers expressed their disenchantment with the war effort: I would like to know if we have anything to fight for when the very people that we’re fighting for are trying to vanquish us from the face of the earth. I’d like to know should we fight the Japs and the Germans, when we have a war to fight here at home?26 It would be a pleasure soldiering for Uncle Sam if we were treated like humans, but as things stand now, all we want is out, out of the Army and back to our homes.27 We are suppose[d] to be Americans, but in return we are treated as slaves.28 The treatment that I’ve had from the white American people is worse than any human being would treat a dog. . . . I’ve took this type of treatment so long, till it seems like, I cannot take it any longer.29 We as true Americans ask for an equal place in the world because we have and are giving what every man in this day and age that has principles is doing. If something is not done in the not too distant future about this ignominious situation the things that you dread most and want least will surely come to pass.30

The dual war—one against the axis, one against racism in the United States—caused African American fighting men to question loyalties, patriotism, and their role in American society. Even with widespread problems of racism and segregation that affected African Americans’ service, the American Soldier researchers found black soldiers’ opinions about their postwar future were divided.

164

SETTLING DOWN

Placing the respondents in groups of extreme optimists, optimists, pessimists, and extreme pessimists, the social scientists showed real divisions in black soldiers’ views on the war and postwar conditions. Of those surveyed, 664 were very “very optimistic,” 1,741 were “somewhat optimistic,” 4,235 were “medium,” 651 were labeled “somewhat pessimistic,” and 139 were “very pessimistic.”31 Those who fell into the pessimistic categories about the postwar fate of African Americans were also more likely to feel that improving the status of blacks in America was more important than winning the war first and were more skeptical of the ideological reasons that were given for fighting, such as the right to free speech or a decent living.32 These black soldiers were very skeptical of their war service having any effect on the postwar fate of the African American populace and believed that the racial climate of the home front would be just as soldiers left it: Things will be worse for me if the war is over soon because the white people will think they are masters of the world, especially over the dark races.33 Conditions post-war—After this war just like after World War I we shall drop back to where we were. Where we was: ignorant race haters; depression period due to lend lease and other necessary legislation; disillusion for many ambitious persons, and last but never least tears that can never bring back the dead, or restore limbs, lost motions, or lost hearing or sight. You shall have to pardon me but I am just a negro blowing off who thinks he knows what the score is.34

Though many African Americans soldiers had little hope for change in the postwar era, others expressed optimism for the future improvement of the conditions of the African American community. The groups of optimists and extreme optimists as labeled by the surveyors were more likely to believe that the war needed to be concluded before addressing the inequalities facing the black community, but this support was linked to the belief that improvement for the status of African Americans was implied by their patriotic service to the nation. The researchers found these optimists to be supportive of the war effort, “but the emotional support tended to be fully rallied only by hope for positive racial gains.”35 Black soldiers, as a group, were also much more optimistic about military service: 41 percent of black respondents felt they would be “better off ” following the war compared to just 25 percent of white servicemen.

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

165

The free comment responses reflect these opinions, as many responses demonstrated black soldiers’ focus on improving the situation for their community through the sacrifice of their war service. Some commentators were very straightforward in their desires for the postwar era: “I have only one thing to say and that is—that I hope that some day my people will have a better chance and I think that this war will bring it about.”36 Many of the responses that focus on the theme of war service and postwar improvement, however, do not fit comfortably under the label “optimistic.” Though these soldiers hoped that their sacrifice for their country would lead to better treatment from a grateful nation, their tone was not one of confident expectation, but more of hesitation and bitterness: When you have white civilians in the south shooting, beating and abusing Negro soldiers; and in the camps the same thing is going on the Negro— even though he has the ability loses much desire to fight. He fights only on the hope that the future will hold more in store.37 Mr. President we the Negro we are one hundred per cent with you up to the finish but we do hope that after the war is over that we the Negro of the United State [sic] have also won victory among some of the segregation which we are suffering from.38 I really don’t think there will be a lot of improvement for the Negro but he lives here so he must help. I think if a person is willing to die for a country I think he should be entitled to all of the freedom of that country.39 Don’t you think it would be a grand gesture and the beginning of great progress if the people (of the United States) as a whole would have eyes opened, their ignorance removed and their souls cleansed thus enabling them to recognize the sacrifices and losses of these returning men of all races and creeds and opening the heart of the country to them, repay them in full by merely practicing the democracy and equality which is so loudly preached? I know—wishful thinking, but maybe someday . . . someday.40

In their fear of an uncaring home front and postwar depression, black respondents often echoed the fears of their white counterparts, but time and again African American veterans were even more concerned about the prevalence of racism and segregation in postwar America. Accordingly, some black soldiers were determined to take action upon their return if segregation and other aspects of racial intolerance were

166

SETTLING DOWN

not resolved in the postwar era. These responses fueled the worst fears of civilians and segregation’s supporters as black soldiers alluded to coming violence by veterans in defense of their rights: The first thing is about the Negroes and Negroes soldiers and their rights after the war well I am saying this the only reason why the negroes soldiers are even in the this war is to try and get their rights and I am saying this don’t no son of a bitch be surprise when the war ends and the negroes don’t have [more] than they do now that it will be a revolution between the whites and the colored.41 I think the questionnaire is fine if something could be done about the Negro being treated better and having a fair chance. The war is every soldiers war colored and white so all should be treated the same . . . if things don’t change there will be a lot of blood shed. Believe it or not.42 Besides this questionnaire shouldn’t be given to a Negro because you know all his answers if he not a white man fool. Why don’t you stop beating around the bush. The Negro is no longer sleeping, he now wide awake. And mark my word, there shall be a revolution in this country soon [after] this war, because no foreign nation need to send propaganda to the North American Negro, he knows how he is treated, especially in the army.43 Get rid of this damned segregation NOW—before all [h]ell breaks loose. Remember that all Negroes are not dumb—in fact some of us are pretty smart—and we are coming home after fighting and dying like everybody else, for Democracy—Don’t let them DOWN!!!44

Veterans using their deadly training was a fear for many civilians on the home front, but the idea of black veterans returning to the United States, and particularly to the segregated South, to claim their rights through violence was a nightmare scenario for many whites. Though few African American soldiers made such comments in either the surveys or periodical literature following the war, for many white civilians the black veteran represented a threat to a peaceful postwar society. NAACP Chairman Walter White noted that many whites were preparing a decidedly different reception for returning African American vets than the parades and fanfare that were to greet white soldiers. White heard rumors during the war that Southern cities were stockpiling guns, tear gas, and riot gear in anticipation of problems from organized labor and black veterans in postwar America. Other rumors suggested that law enforcement

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

167

would be using new techniques against African American veterans to eliminate dissent. If black veterans threatened any trouble, the rumors went, massive shows of force by the local authorities in black neighborhoods, along with mass arrests and violence, would “put the fear of law into any Negroes who refused to be cowed.” White was also shown the extra ammunition and weaponry held by a “Middle West industrial city” police department purchased “to take care of any ‘bad niggers’ who come home with any fancy ideas about occupying a different status than they knew before they left.”45 Just as white America was anticipating the return of white soldiers, African American communities around the country began to prepare for the arrival of their heroes and looked to integrate black vets back into American life. The black press and civil rights organizations had kept a close watch on the difficulties and successes of African American soldiers and had pushed for reforms, such as equal treatment of soldiers in the military or the waiving of poll tax for black veterans. Black periodicals like the NAACP’s Crisis, the Urban League’s Opportunity, and the nationally circulated Pittsburgh Courier all contained information about vocational training, employment opportunities, and education for African American veterans. Both the black and white communities looked to veterans for help in achieving postwar goals, but many African American leaders encouraged vets to work for progressive changes in both social and political life. The advice literature for all veterans discussed a period of readjustment when servicemen were encouraged to express their dissenting opinions, but this approach to “the veteran problem” was predicated on ex-soldiers eventually accepting their place within society. In contrast, African American leaders and activists urged black veterans to take on America’s racial hierarchy that caused so much anger and resentment for African American soldiers. As disgruntled or progressive white veterans found their dissenting opinions unwelcome in the developing consensus culture, black vets found established groups like the NAACP eager for the infusion of energy brought by veterans who were ready to challenge the oppressive racial restrictions that limited African American opportunities. Black veterans’ desire for change was in step with the feelings of many African American civilians, and they were given outlets for their frustrations throughout the postwar era. Even before the end of the war, the major black periodicals carried information of not only the exploits of black combatants, but also of tales

168

SETTLING DOWN

of soldiers’ frustrations with serving in a segregated army and stories of servicemen suffering indignities from ungrateful white civilians. The black press was also unafraid to print articles about the veteran’s return that expressed many negative sentiments about the shape of postwar America. In 1944, The Crisis published a three-part series by a former army chaplain entitled “What the Negro Soldier Thinks.” Author Grant Reynolds recounted his experiences dealing with segregation in the armed forces and the inequalities endured by African American soldiers. Though Reynolds was an officer in the army, he still suffered many slights because of his race and was reprimanded for speaking out against racism in the service.46 Reynolds ominously predicted that if the discrimination against black veterans was not remedied, the nation would pay a heavy price in the postwar era. Black soldiers, he wrote, lacked a strong connection to official war aims and felt that they were fighting “a white man’s war.” A black soldier had to ask how he could “be expected to give his last full measure of devotion for his country when each day, while he wears the uniform of his country, he is insulted, humiliated, and even murdered for attempting to be an American?”47 In another article about the racism of the War Department and armed services, Reynolds told of white officers who failed to heed his calls for improvement in black soldiers’ status and were later surprised when black soldier “hoodlums” brutally beat one of their commanding officers.48 He ended the article with this warning for America if the plight of the African American soldier went unnoticed in the postwar era: Colored soldiers are being trained each day to the latest and most diabolical techniques of destroying life that the mind of man can evolve. He learns not only to kill with the rifle, the hand grenade and the bayonet, but with bare hand is taught to mutilate and dismember the body of an enemy. The War Department thus is making killers of Sam Jackson and Henry Jones and the nice boy who lived in the next block. When these men return from participating in the global struggle they will have paid the price of freedom and decency. If they are denied these privileges guaranteed all American citizens and if such a denial prompts them to engage in bloody conflict, much of the responsibility must be laid at the door of the War Department.49

The indignities suffered by the African American soldier in the army, coupled with his military training, threatened to make the returning black vet a potential violent challenge to Americans who in large measure had ignored the sufferings of a significant minority of America’s fighting forces.

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

169

Like Reynolds, other authors in the African American community touched on the presence of civilian fears of returning vets. In an editorial for Opportunity, Alphonse Heningburg responded to notions that blacks would be looking for violent solutions to their problems: Many Americans are deeply and justifiably disturbed over the possibility that the Negro veteran, embittered by our constant refusal to give democracy a chance here at home, may initiate the use of violence to register his protest. The editors of Opportunity do not share in that apprehension. We know that the preachers of hatred are at work every day in many of our communities, but we count strongly upon the sense of balance which characterizes the Negro on the American scene, and the discipline developed by army life. This veteran may be goaded into acts of desperation, but he will not initiate violence.

Though Heningburg did his best to argue against the notion of the violent vet, he stopped short of saying that black veterans eschewed all violence. Pushed to “acts of desperation” by hostile whites, the threat of African American veterans responding with violence was not out of the question. The black vet was not a shell-shocked maniac bent on violent reprisals after his release from the service, but he was not going to calmly accept racist violence directed at African Americans.50 Also in Opportunity, George B. Nesbitt in “The Negro Soldier Speaks” concluded that “veterans would return brooding and restless” and have difficulty in adjusting to changing home front conditions. Still, Nesbitt held out hope for progressive change in America, stating, “in a state of unrest and dissatisfaction people are highly responsive and suggestive to new stimulation and ideas.” Veterans could come back and give the African American community new troops to fight against inequality in America. Just as they had fought for liberty in the armed services, black veterans could continue this fight in civilian life against racial prejudice. Nesbitt wrote, “The men who will have served and sweated in the jungles and fought for freedom everywhere will look for it at home.”51 Many groups realized that the returning African American soldier had the potential to be an important force for progressive change following the war. American Veterans Committee leader Charles Bolté authored a pamphlet with Louis Harris, Our Negro Veterans, which emphasized the importance of black veterans in the fight against racism in the postwar era. They wrote, The Negro veteran has seen more of the world than the rest of his people; he is the first to seek a new voice at the polls in hitherto white primaries;

170

SETTLING DOWN

he is firmer in demanding better jobs than have been available to Negroes in the past; his potential contribution to the nation is greater in terms of leadership. He is also more likely to suffer violence for carrying the torch of the Negro postwar protest against discrimination in America.52

The NAACP was concerned enough about the return of African American veterans that it created a special Department of Veterans’ Affairs. Headed by veteran Jesse O. Dedmon Jr., the department fielded complaints by soldiers about racism on military bases and abroad, lobbied the Veterans’ Administration on behalf of black veterans, and encouraged local NAACP branches to help returning veterans with readjustment problems. In his speeches, Dedmon reiterated the belief that African American soldiers had changed due to their military experience and were entitled to the respect of the entire nation: The Negro, as every other American citizen, made a definite contribution to the greatest battle of all time; the battle which decided whether or not we remained a free people. We should be mindful of the fact that the Negro soldier fought and shed his blood for a freedom, which he has not as yet been permitted to share. . . . The Negro soldier made his contribution in World War II as he had in every other war in which we, a free people, have fought. He met every test of patriotism and heroism. . . . It should never be forgotten that Negro heroes in this war achieved their proud records under handicaps that did not have to be overcome by most of their white citizens. . . . They were MEN—with the heart and will and the courage—the stuff of which heroes are made.53

Like other activists, Dedmon understood that African American vets’ military experience had primed them to take on racial restrictions in America. He demanded that African American veterans receive the same social status as white veterans in America and emphasized the nation’s duty to aid in black soldiers’ readjustment to civilian life. Black veterans, like their white counterparts, were heroes and masculine protectors and should be afforded all the benefits that the grateful nation seemed to bestow on its fighting men. If given their proper respect as soldiers by the American public, black veterans could be a powerful part of any postwar campaign against racism. The NAACP affirmed its commitment to helping African American veterans by holding a special conference in November 1945 to discuss veterans’ issues. At the conference, speakers from numerous government and community agencies commented on the opportunities and problems

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

171

of returning veterans, and panels were convened around topics such as employment, education, health, legal aid, and legislation for vets’ rights. Along with discussing the difficulties of the black soldier’s return, the conference’s attendees seemed to understand that many African American vets were both angry about the racism they faced during the war and ready to work for change on the home front. In his opening remarks, Walter White commented on this combination of resentment and determination: [Veterans] are bitter because of jim crow and vicious court martials and unbelievable discrimination. Amoung [sic] the majority, they created a new determination to return to America and to work in organizations as never before, organizations such as the NAACP. I found out in the Pacific that they knew their fight for freedom would begin when they got back to San Francisco on their way home.54

Just as other advice literature urged all veterans to transfer the leadership skills they learned in the military to their postwar communities, civil rights advocates used the metaphor of war to encourage black veterans to use their war experience as motivation in the struggle against racism. The NAACP also felt that the special status that soldiers received in the United States would also aid black vets in their efforts against racism in the postwar era. In a condensation of the notes of the conference, there was a category listing the “Assets of the Negro Veteran.” Veterans’ development of special skills in the military was listed, but the heightened status of black veterans was also included. It read, “Dramatization—It is one thing to discriminate against a man because he is black and another thing to discriminate against a man because he is black and is a veteran.” Some of the attendees hoped that African American veterans would gain some advantage from their war service, and they would be able to use their military experience in the struggle against racism.55 The heightened status of America’s fighting men allowed for the passage of the Soldier’s Vote Act over the muted objections of Southern segregationists in Congress, which ensured that all veterans were given absentee ballots and would not have to pay poll taxes.56 For the activists of the NAACP and other groups, returning black veterans represented a new, politicized group that would hopefully be given increased status in American society after fighting for the nation’s freedom. Just as in the white community, black America urged veterans to take up leadership roles in the post war era, but African American veterans

172

SETTLING DOWN

were expected to be an energizing force that would specifically challenge racial inequality in the United States. In order to improve their own postwar futures, African American vets had to work for the rights of the entire black community. As one of the NAACP conference’s attendees explained: “The veterans have to get together and fight. [A veteran] should fight problems within the community if he wants to improve himself and his country.”57 The importance of veterans to the NAACP’s future was evident at its 1946 national convention, which featured several speeches dedicated to the problems faced by black veterans, such housing shortages, inadequate job training, and unemployment. In a speech that described the employment problems of black veterans, Captain Frederic E. Morrow highlighted veterans’ changing attitudes regarding race relations in the United States: We also find that the average Negro veteran returning from the war much more aggressive about his rights and his citizenship than he was before his induction. He may have been docile and subservient when he held the job before. But combat has made him a changed individual and he returns to his old job with a newer sense of the dignity of men, and once again to be treated more as a person and human being than a paid servant.58

Morrow stressed that the NAACP needed to protect veterans from racism in the business sector and to be an organization worthy of veterans’ membership. Morrow concluded by charging the group with failing to live up to its promises to black veterans and suggested that it needed a national effort to address veterans’ issues. If not, Morrow questioned the vets’ role in the NAACP: Those of us who have been soldiers know the value of leadership that can inspire men to do their best and to fight the enemy at any time or place no matter how great they are. As veterans we are going to look for that leadership from whose duty and responsibility it is to provide it. And wherever we find that kind of leadership you will also find us and so today is the time for this organization to examine its program with respect to what I have outlined here. If its present plans do not call for meeting this challenge head-on, that organizations . . . that we fought and some died [for] will no longer have a place in our skeem [sic] of things and will certainly not have our membership or good will.59

Black leaders may have been pushing veterans to play a leading role in struggles against racism, but former servicemen were also challenging civilian organizations to help the veteran in his postwar pursuits.

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

173

As white home front authors urged civilians to help veterans settle down and conform to societal norms, many black authors encouraged African American veterans to act upon their desire for social and political reform. The violent potential of the black veteran was used as a warning to those who supported the American system of racial inequality. If the United States wanted to avoid the potential violence of thousands of angry black veterans, the nation would have to address the problems of the African American community as America entered the postwar era. Though all veterans were looking to rejoin their families and homes after their military service, for many African America servicemen the return to the home front represented the chance to claim equal citizenship after working for the defense of American democracy. With these goals in mind, black veterans returned home but often received receptions that did not match the heroic rhetoric that surrounded men in uniform. American soldiers were portrayed as returning heroes in the major media, but the typical soldier in the eyes of most Americans was white. Black soldiers did make their way into films such as Sahara and Bataan, which were revolutionary for their inclusion of nonwhite heroic characters, but in most of the major media of the war, the GI had a white face. By normalizing the American fighting man as white, those who opposed African Americans’ demands for racial equality were more easily able to deny black soldiers the benefits that came with being one of the nation’s heroes. African American veterans were becoming frustrated at their status on the home front and were challenging the nation and black organizations to become more responsive to their needs. A Chicago organization called the National Council of Negro Veterans railed against the lackluster support the black veterans received after their service ended. In a piece entitled, “A Line to those responsible for the proper reception of colored veterans,” the group charged that the inadequate employment and training of African American veterans was leading them to the unemployment lines and demanded that black vets be compensated for their military service: I do not agree with those that say that a man who has served his country in war is not entitled to special favors and an opportunity to gain his balance during the postwar era. The man who leaves his youth and his health, if not his life, on the battlefield fighting for the security of his homeland is entitled to every possible opportunity that can be given to him and he is entitled to protection while he is securing these opportunities. The fact that “no bells” are ringing for colored veterans in certain areas under your jurisdiction

174

SETTLING DOWN

means that you are crushing our spirits and causing us to join the happy hordes that shout, “Hail, Hail the gangs all here, bring on the 20 a week.”60

Black veterans also wanted action and in many cases had grown tired of promises from the home front. Black soldiers also faced the denigration of their military achievements not just by Southern segregationists, but by high-ranking military officials. A controversial letter by Secretary of War Henry Stimson revealed that he felt black units should not go into combat because their “lower educational classifications” meant they had “been unable to master the techniques of modern weapons.”61 Attacks on black soldiers’ military service or the erasure of their image altogether limited the influence and protection that their war service provided black veterans. In a speech that highlighted racism in veteran training after the war, NAACP official Vincent Malveaux explained how African American veterans were denied benefits and training because “officials simply contend that the Negro veteran did nothing in the war but run away from tanks and act cowardly in battle so why should special consideration be given to his status as a veteran.”62 Some Americans were willing to honor all of the nation’s soldiers, but the history of racial inequality in the United States led many African American veterans to question whether the contributions of the black community in World War II would be heralded, attacked, or ignored by many whites. As expected by Walter White and other civil rights leaders, the black veteran’s return was met with hostility from whites. The year 1946 proved to be a dangerous one for black soldiers, especially if they refused to accept a subordinate role in American society. Sensational cases of brutality against black veterans began to appear in the black press and the national newspapers. Most of the violence that made headlines was not committed against vets who were engaged in overt acts of political rebellion but occurred after black vets got into disagreements with whites. As predicted, black vets were often not willing to automatically defer to the supposed authority of whites and many paid a heavy price for defying established racial hierarchies. Periodicals such as the Pittsburgh Courier made sure to identify the veteran status of lynching victims, dramatizing the painful irony of black soldiers who fought abroad for freedom being killed at home because of the color of their skin. The mistreatment and murder of America’s black heroes highlighted the inconsistencies of justice and race in the postwar United States and became a rallying point of civil rights activists in their efforts combat racism and racist violence.

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

175

The symbolic value of the black veteran, like veterans’ social and political leadership, became important to the growing civil rights movement in the postwar era. One violent case that made instant headlines was the assault upon veteran Isaac Woodard in early 1946. Woodard had been recently discharged from Camp Gordon, Georgia, and was on his way to Winnesboro, South Carolina, to pick up his wife on their way to New York. Woodard had served for more than a year in the Pacific theater and had not been discharged for even four hours when he learned how little things had changed for African Americans after the war. While driving through South Carolina, Woodard and a white bus driver got into an argument about making a “comfort stop.” When the bus arrived in Batesburg, South Carolina, Woodard was arrested for disturbing the peace and then beaten senseless. In the process of assaulting him, the arresting officer, who was the Batesburg chief of police, permanently blinded the vet by gouging out his eyes with his baton. After being held in the local jail, the police finally took the injured man to a veterans’ hospital in Columbia, where he spent two months recuperating from the attack. The case achieved notoriety, as the NAACP demanded an investigation by state and federal authorities. Due to the horrific nature of the attack on a veteran who had only recently been discharged, the NAACP was able to offer legal aid to Woodard, put up a reward for information about his assault, and hold fundraisers for his family (one was hosted by Joe Louis). In addition, the NAACP was able to provide a ten-thousanddollar annuity and a lifetime disability pension for the blinded veteran. Woodard went on a national speaking tour to raise funds for the NAACP and to highlight the racism to which even the nation’s veterans were not immune. The NAACP and other African American groups hoped that publicity of the Woodard case would lead to shame over the nation’s inability to safeguard men who had served in the armed forces, but as 1946 continued, it was clear that participation by the African American community in the armed forces would not provide blacks protection from some of the cruelest manifestations of American racism.63 The NAACP became involved in another important case of a veteran’s clash with whites. In Columbia, Tennessee, a fight between a white repairman and an African American veteran, James Stephenson, led to a riot by white authorities against the local black community. The veteran’s mother had paid to have her radio fixed, but finding it still broken, complained to the owner of the repair shop. The owner and another white

176

SETTLING DOWN

employee began to hit and kick the woman, who was saved when her son threw one of the men through a plate-glass window. Stephenson and his mother were arrested, but local mobs of whites began to make noises about lynching the veteran and destroying black-owned businesses. A white mob attacked the jail but luckily only after the prisoners had been released on bail. Later that night, police who entered the black section of Columbia exchanged shots with blacks, with two officers being injured in the process. Calling up more state and local officers, the white authorities entered the African American community, firing shots, destroying property, and looting stores and homes. Following mass arrests and the killing of two black prisoners by the authorities, the NAACP agreed to help the accused rioters. The case received national attention, and after months of litigation, all the defendants were freed. Writing about the case later, Langston Hughes commented that the legal battle waged by the defense “was a dangerous, costly, and heartbreaking process—one hardly calculated to bolster a returning veteran’s faith in democracy.”64 As the year progressed, the hostility shown toward black veterans increased. On July 26, two African American veterans and their wives were lynched in Monroe, Georgia. That evening, one of the servicemen got into a fight with a white man who was paying too much attention to the veteran’s wife. The vet was taken to jail but later released. The serviceman and his wife, along with another veteran and his spouse, were being driven from the jail by the white plantation owner on whose land the vet farmed. The white man, however, delivered the two couples to a waiting mob and they were killed. Years later, one of the killers explained the reason behind the murders to a witness: “Up until George went into the army, he was a good nigger. But when he came out, they thought they were as good as any white people.”65 Clearly, the veteran status of the lynched man played a part in whites’ decision to commit murder. In August, another horrific lynching of a black veteran occurred in Louisiana and made headlines. On August 8, John C. Jones was beaten and tortured with a blowtorch by a group of local whites in Minden, Louisiana. Jones was arrested for loitering in a white woman’s back yard, but Walter White wrote that Jones might have gotten in trouble by failing to give a war souvenir to a white man. The local authorities also arrested his cousin, Albert “Sonny Man” Harris, as an accomplice. Harris refused to implicate his cousin and was beaten by a mob of whites after he and Jones were released. Again, Harris and Jones were rearrested and jailed, though the woman refused to press charges. The authorities attempted to

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

177

release the prisoners at night four days later, but sensing danger, the two demanded to stay in the jail. At that point they were forcibly removed from the jail by a group of whites and taken to a remote location. While Jones was tortured and killed, Harris was beaten with a strap and pistolwhipped. After regaining consciousness, he found Jones only to watch the veteran die minutes later. To highlight the injustice of the lynching of veterans, the Pittsburgh Courier reported that Jones, a decorated corporal from the European theater, was killed wearing his military uniform.66 Later when Jones’s attackers were acquitted in a Louisiana court, the Courier further dramatized the cruel irony of the lynched vets, lamenting that “another veteran of World War II who emerged unscathed from the holocaust has been done to death on his native soil and has gone unavenged.”67 The Pittsburgh Courier reported numerous other acts of violence against other African American veterans immediately after the war. In November 1945, veteran Claire Pressley was killed apparently without provocation in Johnsonville, South Carolina, by local police. In August of the next year in St. Louis, black war veteran William Howard was killed by an off duty police officer under questionable circumstances. A decorated veteran narrowly escaped being lynched in Sylvia, North Carolina, in September after he was implicated in the death of a white man. Eugene Bells, a veteran from Liberty, Mississippi, was lynched for defying a white farmer. A veteran was also lynched in Smithfield, North Carolina, after a dispute over hunting dogs. The violence perpetrated against black veterans showed that the postwar era would be a difficult period for African Americans who were looking for change in the nation’s racial barriers. 68 Violence in the South was perhaps more sensational than attacks on African American veterans in the rest of the United States, but racial incidents involving veterans appeared all over the country. On February 5 in Freeport, Long Island, private first-class Charles Ferguson was celebrating his reenlistment with his three brothers. One brother was a recently discharged army veteran and another was still in the navy. The brothers ran afoul of a white patrolman who exchanged words with Charles Ferguson. After lining up the brothers and an innocent bystander against a wall, the policemen fatally shot Ferguson and one of his brothers after he claimed the former was reaching into his pocket. Though the officer was cleared of wrongdoing by a grand jury, the armed forces exonerated the brothers of any charges and buried Charles Ferguson with full military honors.69

178

SETTLING DOWN

In addition, the rest of America began to show some of the same racial barriers as those in Southern communities. Disputes over housing became common as the nation began to suffer a housing shortage in the postwar era and blacks began looking outside of their traditional neighborhoods for homes. In Los Angeles, a black homeowner was told to move by notes signed “KKK.” In Redwood City, California, an African American veteran’s home was burned to the ground, and he was threatened with lynching after he moved into a white area of town. Even after the arson, he vowed to rebuild. 70 In Chicago, a mob rioted after two black vets and their families attempted to move into a veterans’ housing project. They would eventually move in after massive police support was called to keep the peace.71 Clearly, the South was not the only region in America that was hostile to the aspirations of black veterans. Though not all postwar racial conflict involved vets, they were involved in many of the most publicized cases of racial violence after the war. One reason veterans had such a high profile was surely the symbolic importance that their service had in making points about racial inequality in the United States. Lynching was harsh enough, but the killing of a man who had fought for his country intensified the contradictions of race in America for papers like the Pittsburgh Courier or groups like the NAACP. Also, the black community remembered the fate of many African American veterans of World War I who had suffered similar treatment at the hands of whites who wanted to keep soldiers in their subordinate position in society. In a painful repeat of the previous postwar era more than two decades earlier, whites may have been targeting black veterans of World War II in an attempt to retain the oppressive racial system that African Americans wanted to change after the war. Attacks on African American veterans took on even more significance with the beginning of the cold war. Soviet propaganda highlighted the contradictions of American democracy and racial violence, and papers in the developing world, whose readers had often struggled with oppression by whites, provided accounts of these incidents that were sympathetic to blacks. Even the United States’ European allies were appalled at the treatment of African American veterans, particularly in the South. Officials at the State Department were cognizant of the difficulties that racial injustice in America posed to American foreign policy as the United States attempted to check the spread of Soviet Communism around the globe.72 In this context, civil rights activists could continue to exert influence on the government with the strength they had during World War II. Responding to the rash of violence against blacks following the end of the

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

179

war, a group of civil rights and labor activists, along with religious and civic leaders, formed the National Emergency Committee against Mob Violence. Due to the prestige of committee members such as Walter White, the group was able to lobby President Truman directly. No champion of civil rights to that point, Truman was apparently greatly moved by the horrific nature of these attacks, in particular the assault upon Isaac Woodard and on the veterans in Monroe, Georgia. Truman pledged to put the power of the White House behind legislation to remedy the dangerous climate of racial inequality in the South. He wrote, When the mob gangs can take four people out and shoot them in the back, and everybody in the [surrounding] country is acquainted with who did the shooting and nothing is done about it, that country is in a pretty bad fix from the law enforcement standpoint. When a mayor and a City Marshal can take a negro Sergeant off a bus in South Carolina, beat him up and put out one of his eyes, and nothing is done about it by the State Authorities, something is wrong with the system. . . . I am going to try to remedy it and if that ends up in my failure to be reelected, that failure will be in a good cause.”73

Truman focused on civil rights as a way of winning over African American and liberal voters, but the president, a veteran himself, seemed personally outraged by these attacks. Again, the cruel irony of an African American soldier, who had fought for freedom and democracy, being savagely attacked due to the color of his skin had tremendous symbolic power. In order to tackle the problems of race in America, Truman created a special Committee on Civil Rights, made up of prominent citizens. In 1947, the committee issued an influential report, To Secure These Rights, which brought racial discrimination to the forefront of American politics. The report detailed the gross racial inequalities that plagued American society and offered a legislative plan of action to remedy these problems, including a full reassessment of the segregated military. Surprisingly, although the report was sweeping in its scope and damning in its criticism, the abuse of black veterans did not receive the same attention that it had from civil rights leaders in the previous year. Attacks on veterans were mentioned in the letter of assignment from President Truman, stating that “in some places, from time to time, the local enforcement of law and order has broken down, and individuals—sometimes ex-servicemen, even women, have been killed, maimed, or intimidated.”74 Here veterans were afforded the status of a special victim, along with women, whose lynching

180

SETTLING DOWN

dramatized the immorality and contradictions in American race relations. The Monroe and John C. Jones lynchings were also used as evidence of the mistreatment of blacks in the South, but only one of the victims was identified as a veteran.75 But for the most part, the report did not attempt to make great use of the symbolic power of the attacks on African American vets. Why would civil rights activists not continue to focus on African Americans’ war service after it had been so effective in focusing attention on American racism? After helping to bring movement on racial issues, the symbolic importance of African American veterans began to wane within a few years. By 1947, civil rights leaders had largely adopted a liberal political rhetoric, and blacks’ sacrifices for the nation during the war became less important to the national debate on race. To this line of thinking, blacks did not have to earn their rights as citizens through military service; in a democracy every citizen was entitled to equal rights and protection. In this way, the symbolic importance of African American veterans’ service was de-emphasized in favor of calls to help all Americans in the struggle against prejudice and intolerance.76 This loss of significance of the veteran in the rhetoric of civil rights activism seems in keeping with the lessening in importance of the veteran in American society. The nation was looking to put the war behind it, and the nation’s heroes needed to move on as well. Veterans could have an elevated status in the postwar era but only if they adhered to certain prescriptions created on the home front. African Americans may have had a difficult time accessing this status in any case, given the fact that the majority of images of the soldier and veteran in American society depicted white men. It is perhaps not surprising then that civil rights leaders looked to a different set of arguments to move the nation’s leadership. By the end of 1948, the NAACP had closed its Veterans Affairs division. In tackling the nation’s race problems, African American veterans did not fit neatly into home front prescriptions for soldiers or consensus views. Though it did help to create a climate that was hostile to overt acts of racism and violence, the developing cold war did not always work to African Americans’ benefit. Consensus notions about the importance of unity and the wisdom of the government in the resolution of racial conflict limited African Americans’ attempts to gain movement on issues. Though the Truman administration made significant progress over previous administrations, African American activists, including many veterans, were often upset at the pace of reform dictated by the government. Many

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

181

continued to agitate for reforms and refused to wait for the federal government to end segregation. For their efforts, civil rights leaders were accused by segregationists of being Communist subversives, and the FBI also investigated possible Communist influences in civil rights organizations.77 In stepping outside of “legitimate” protest against racism in America, African American activists had to fight against federal investigators and a culture of consensus that attempted to limit the scope of the fight against racial inequality in the United States. African American veterans refused to settle down and wait for the government to aid them in their fight against racism. Although not a significant part of civil rights rhetoric at the national level, African American vets remained valued members of civil rights organizations and indispensable figures in the growing freedom struggle after the war. For failing to adhere to home front prescriptions for returning soldiers, many African American servicemen jeopardized any protection that their veteran status provided and instead looked to challenge American society after many progressive or disenchanted veterans had been silenced. An examination of African American veterans in the civil rights work reveals how great an influence was their military service on their future activism. Black veterans often had to fight similar battles against prejudice that they had waged as soldiers in the segregated army. Jackie Robinson was a prime example of one veteran whose military service prepared him for challenging segregation during and after the war. Drafted into the army, Robinson attended Officer Candidate School in Kansas. Robinson became the morale officer and at the request of his men attempted to remedy the small number of seats reserved for African American troops in the segregated seating at the PX (post exchange). When he called the provost marshal, the officer told Robinson, “How would you like your wife sitting next to a nigger?” Robinson understood that the provost marshal thought he was talking to a fellow white officer. Robinson shouted back at the marshal and then reported the incident to his colonel. Eventually, more spots were added to the PX, and the offending officer was disciplined. Recalling his military service, Robinson stated, “I had made my men realize that something could be accomplished by speaking out, and I hoped they would be less resigned to unjust conditions.”78 Later, Robinson would refuse to play army football because the service would not let him compete if the fort’s team faced a segregated white rival.

182

SETTLING DOWN

These incidents were significant steps in the development of Robinson’s desire to take on racism and segregation, but they were small compared to a later event for which he was almost dismissed from the service. While taking a bus back to his new post in Texas, Robinson struck up a conversation with the white wife of one of his fellow lieutenants. The driver of the bus became enraged at the sight of a black man and white woman talking and ordered Robinson to the back of the bus. Knowing that discrimination on post vehicles was prohibited, Robinson refused to move. At the final stop, Robinson was escorted to the duty officer by military police. Robinson then got in an argument with the duty officer and a civilian woman after he felt he was being treated unfairly. When his interview was completed, Robinson met with a colonel who had heard that a belligerent and drunk black officer was causing problems. The colonel suggested that Robinson, who never drank, take a blood test to prove his sobriety, and then he was released. Robinson then had to face a court-martial. Luckily for Robinson, he was a well-known amateur athlete who had the support of his fellow black officers and the national black press. He was acquitted of all charges and then asked for a discharge, which he was granted. After the war, Robinson’s supporters emphasized his veteran status to play upon the nation’s reverence for its servicemen and to justify equal treatment for African Americans, but Robinson’s military service provided him with more than impressive, patriotic credentials. His refusal to accept the racist conditions in the armed forces provided him with important experience when he would later break into segregated major league baseball.79 Ralph Abernathy was another prominent figure in the African American civil rights movement whose military service influenced his activism against racism. Although he would later become a minister, Abernathy entered the army as a soldier and worked hard to be the finest recruit in his unit. As shown in The American Soldier surveys, African American soldiers often complained at the conduct of racist white officers, but Abernathy was pleased to find two fair-minded, caring white men in charge of his unit. Abernathy was also introduced to black soldiers from a variety of backgrounds, providing him with different perspectives. When relating his military experiences, Abernathy linked the camaraderie that he felt in his unit with that of later civil rights struggles: “Only in the years of the Montgomery bus boycott and afterward did I again feel the same sense of commitment to a group of people that I felt among those men, some of whom, we all understood, were doomed to die.”80 This sense of community and interracial cooperation inspired

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

183

Abernathy as one of the leaders of Martin Luther King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference. Abernathy’s positive experience in the armed forces was very different from most African American vets. Another well-known African American civil rights activist from Mississippi, Aaron Henry, was also inspired by his military service in World War II, but his motivation for postwar activism came from the inequalities he witnessed in the segregated army. Drafted into the army in 1943, Henry moved from his home in Clarksdale, Mississippi, and was stationed in California and then Hawaii. The trip out west exposed Henry to entirely new parts of the country, but he was also introduced to organized protest against racism while in the army. While taking a ship to Hawaii, Henry and other African American soldiers boycotted a movie showing because the theater on board was segregated. Another incident occurred when in front of a group of African American soldiers a white chaplain made a reference to a day when it “rained pitchforks and nigger babies.” Many of the black soldiers left and refused to return. Henry finally did return, stating that “hearing the term ‘nigger’ was nothing new to me.”81 Henry also witnessed the animosity between white and black soldiers. When he and another black soldier tried to help a passed-out white serviceman, the drunk woke up and said, “I’ll be goddamned, two niggers got me.”82 Henry had to plead with his friend not to kill the white soldier. He also recalled a near riot between soldier sports teams at his base. A black baseball game got mixed in with a white football game, and a brawl developed. Soon soldiers were threatening to use firearms, nearly leading to bloodshed between the segregated troops. This last incident convinced Henry that “separate but equal was still a sham. No matter how equal the facilities, the idea of white superiority and Negro inferiority remained, and we knew it was incongruous with the American idea of democracy that we were fighting for.”83 When he returned to Clarksdale in 1946, Henry sought to take advantage of the veteran poll-tax exemption, available to the state’s almost sixty-seven thousand black vets, in order to register to vote.84 The white clerk assured him that he was mistaken about the exemption, and Henry was forced to return with a certificate from a white veteran to prove that he did not have to pay the tax. Faced with this situation, the clerk ended up registering Henry and, later, many other blacks. On the day of a mayoral election, Henry saw a group of African Americans, veterans and older men who had paid the poll tax, standing around. He found out that they had been milling about outside nominally to let the veterans vote

184

SETTLING DOWN

first, but Henry felt “they were waiting to see what would happen to the first Negro who tried.”85 Henry went in and voted, but he received no harassment. He became the first African American to vote in Coahoma County in a Democratic Party primary. Later Henry would go on to be an NAACP activist and president of the Council of Federated Organizations, a member of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party’s delegation to the 1964 national Democratic Party convention, and a state legislator in Mississippi. Though threatened and jailed for his activism, Henry continued to fight for equality after being first inspired by his experience as a soldier and veteran. Unfortunately, Henry’s relatively easy time voting in 1946 was not typical of the Mississippi elections. The experience of civil rights activists Medgar and Charles Evers provides a more typical example of black veterans attempting to vote in Mississippi upon their return. Natives of Mississippi, both Charles and Medgar Evers volunteered for the army, but the brothers had their own ideas about what they would get out of their military experience. Instead of joining up to earn the respect of whites, they “vowed to use the army to see the world and learn to defend ourselves, so white folks couldn’t mess with us.”86 Even after suffering racist treatment in the segregated army, Charles Evers felt he was learning more than he ever had at home: I still preferred my life in the army to life in Mississippi. I knew that if the army told me to duck bullets in a foxhole, I’d have a little piece of freedom. I could travel, learn new skills. When Medgar joined the army, he felt the same. The army brought us around the South and then across the world, taught us how to care for ourselves, and how to kill. Deep down, we were both full of hate. We both wanted to kill some white folk in Mississippi. It tickled us to have the U.S. government teaching us how.87

These were young men, angry at the system of racial inequality that pervaded American life, who looked to the army to provide them with the tools to combat this oppression. During the war, Medgar Evers served in Europe and Charles Evers in the South Pacific. Both had relationships with women of different races. Charles Evers ended an affair with a French-Filipino woman because he knew that their relationship would not be accepted by white segregationists at home. He “had a deep and personal grudge against racism” over his breakup, but Medgar Evers’s romance with a French woman, which broke the racist taboo of interracial relationships that he had grown up with,

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

185

“convinced him black and white could live in peace.”88 But even Medgar Evers’s positive experience with a white woman could not overcome his anger at the racism he encountered in the army. His brother remembered, “Medgar was always very proud of being a veteran, but he never got over the racial prejudice he’d suffered in the service.”89 The Evers brothers were given both positive and negative motivation by their experience in the army and looked to challenge racial restrictions upon their return to Mississippi. While going to school on the GI Bill, the Evers brothers decided to challenge the racist power structure in their hometown of Decatur by voting in the 1946 elections. The struggle for African American voting rights picked up steam in the postwar South and was a cause that was fraught with danger. In January, one hundred black veterans marched in Birmingham, Alabama, in uniform to protest being denied the right to vote for not being able to answer technical questions about the government.90 Black veteran Maceo Snipes was gunned down in 1946 for being the first African American registered to vote in Taylor County, Georgia. His white killer was exonerated and later a sign on a local black church read “THE FIRST NIGGER TO VOTE WILL NEVER VOTE AGAIN.”91 Even in the face of this type of violence, African American veterans’ organizations help launch a significant voter registration campaign in Georgia.92 For many black vets, their right to vote was inextricably linked to the military service, and veterans had returned to the South ready to claim their equal citizenship. Foreseeing the increase in African American voters for the 1946 election due to Mississippi’s waiver of the poll tax for vets, Senator Theodore Bilbo warned whites they were “sleeping on a volcano.” Blacks were to be kept from the polls at all costs, and although Bilbo did not directly call for violence, he stated, “it is left up to you redblooded men to do something about it. The white men of this State have a right to resort to any means at their command to stop it.” He was also quoted as saying “the best time to keep a nigger from a white primary in Mississippi was to see him the night before,” a thinly veiled call for violence and intimidation against prospective African American voters.93 Bilbo was able to inspire many of the state’s whites to use intimidation and threats to keep blacks from voting. After threats and attempts at persuasion by local whites, the Evers brothers were allowed to register. Charles Evers had been emboldened during the incident by his memories of “crawling around in the mud in New Guinea, fighting for my country.”94 On election day, Medgar and

186

SETTLING DOWN

Charles Evers went to vote, joined by four other African Americans. Arriving at the courthouse they faced an armed mob of 250 whites that threatened the prospective voters with shotguns if they continued to press for their right to vote. The veterans left after a tense confrontation, vowing to return in the future. A year later, facing less opposition, the Evers brothers would vote in the county elections, but the memory of that confrontation at the courthouse would inspire both brothers to be active in the civil rights movement. Charles Evers wrote, “We knew liberating Mississippi from the Great White Fathers would be a lot tougher than liberating Europe from the Nazis,” comparing the military struggle the former soldiers had engaged in with the struggle for equal citizenship in America.95 Sadly, Medgar Evers survived the fighting in World War II only to be gunned down while acting as the director of the NAACP in Mississippi, a testament to how dangerous the struggle for civil rights was for African American veterans. The Evers brothers were not the only victims of harassment and intimidation during the Mississippi elections of 1946. African American voters were given misinformation to prevent them from registering or voting, had their votes illegally challenged or confiscated, and were subject to direct threats and violence by whites who wished to prevent them from voting.96 The Senate Committee to Investigate Campaign Expenditures received numerous complaints about voter intimidation inspired by Senator Bilbo’s segregationist speeches. With support from the NAACP and the Progressive Voters’ League, disgruntled voters in Mississippi were calling for Bilbo’s impeachment and reform of the state’s voting system. The committee had no civil rights advocates as members, and it refused to subpoena witnesses, meaning that volunteer witnesses could face reprisals back in Mississippi for their testimony. When the hearings opened in Jackson in early December, almost two hundred witnesses, many of them African American veterans, volunteered to testify. Many veteran witnesses complained of procedural difficulties, as unsympathetic county officials attempted to keep blacks from voting. A circuit clerk denied seventy-one African American veterans the right to vote in one county due to a dubious interpretation of the veteran poll-tax exemption.97 One black veteran who was denied his right to vote explained to the committee his frustration at county officials’ refusal. After being told that he could not vote, the veteran retorted that a recent Supreme Court decision had overturned allwhite primary voting. Still denied his rights to vote, the vet told local officials, “I said, ‘We are forced to obey county and city laws, and you all in turn disobey the highest court in the United States of America.’ I say, ‘Is

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

187

this what we fought for? In so much as we fought for the kind of government we would like to have, I don’t see any reason why we can’t vote for the kind of government we would like to have.’”98 Here, the veteran was appealing to his military service as a justification of his right to vote, but this had little effect on white officials in Mississippi. The veteran, like so many other African American voters in Mississippi, would not be allowed to cast a ballot. Other vets testified to beatings and intimidation from local whites sadly similar to the experience of the Evers brothers. Veteran Richard Daniel claimed to have been beaten by two whites at the polls and then arrested and beaten by a local police officer. Etoy Fletcher, a veteran of two military theaters, was prevented from registering and then was abducted and beaten with a cable wire by a group of whites.99 The testimony of veterans and other disenfranchised voters was not enough to persuade the committee to take action against the senator. Bilbo also testified that he was only against blacks voting in the Democratic Party primaries because they were Republicans. He denied that he encouraged violence in his speeches and emphasized that he was “the nigger’s friend.”100 The committee did not find that Bilbo had inspired these acts, but the testimony of veterans and other potential voters made national headlines. When Congress started its session in 1947, the Republicans controlled the Senate for the first time in sixteen years, and the new leadership sought to deny Bilbo his seat. Bilbo, however, was suffering from cancer and did not return to the Senate for health reasons. He would die from cancer of the mouth before the year was out. African American veterans may have taken some heart that due to their testimony the last year in the life of a notorious segregationist politician was not a peaceful one. Though their testimony did not markedly improve their chances of voting, black veterans were able to publicize their disenfranchisement to an audience outside of Mississippi.101 In the face of widespread violence against African American veterans, other former soldiers were looking to their military training to defend them from attacks from whites. Another controversial personality of the postwar civil rights movement, Robert F. Williams, was an army veteran who relied on the support of fellow servicemen in his efforts against segregation in North Carolina. Williams entered the army only a month before the end of the war and served for eighteen months. Military authorities viewed him as a troublemaker who defied authority, and he was sent to the stockade on numerous occasions for insubordination. Upon his discharge, Williams was ready to challenge the system of racial

188

SETTLING DOWN

inequality at home in North Carolina. Like other black veterans, he was inspired by his war experience to fight for equal rights: “The Army indoctrination instilled in [African American soldiers] what a virtue it was to fight for democracy and that we were fighting for democracy and upholding the Constitution.” Serving his country had convinced Williams that the racial conditions under which African Americans labored was at odds with the freedoms for which he and his comrades had been expected to fight. But he also added that the greatest gift of his military trainers was “they had taught us to use arms.”102 Williams was not looking for armed rebellion, but his refusal to disavow violence in self-defense made him the embodiment of many white Americans’ fears. Here was a black veteran unhappy with his second-class citizenship and ready to use his military training to defend himself from the attacks of whites. Williams had been a civilian for less than a year when an incident occurred in his hometown of Monroe, North Carolina, that changed his life. A young black veteran had killed his white employer in an argument and was executed in early 1947. When the authorities shipped the body back to Monroe for the funeral, the local Ku Klux Klan threatened to desecrate the veteran’s corpse if at his funeral the casket was draped with an American flag. Local African American veterans were determined that the local veteran be buried with recognition of his military service and gathered forty supporters to face down the Klan with guns. In the end, the Klan left the funeral home without incident, but for Williams it showed “that we had to resist, and that resistance could be effective if we resisted in groups, and if we resisted with guns.”103 Other African American vets were taking action. Black vets in Williams’s county organized a successful garbage strike and defied corrupt practices in sharecropping, forging strong bonds between the veterans.104 After failing to secure work in the South, Williams tried to work at different jobs and went to college. When his GI benefits were used up, Williams reenlisted in the marines for more money for school and to receive training in journalism. Made a staff sergeant instead of a journalist, Williams began to complain to his superiors about racial mistreatment in the armed forces and was discharged for his outspoken criticism. This second military stint would further radicalize Williams, and he became a NAACP activist soon after his return to Monroe in 1955. Its ranks painfully depleted, the local chapter of the NAACP received a boost of energy from Williams, who moved beyond the group’s traditional middle-class support to gain members from the entire black community. In particular, he

“THE NEGRO IS NO LONGER SLEEPING”

189

recruited black veterans to be the backbone of the revitalized chapter “who were very militant and who didn’t scare easy.”105 In 1957, the local NAACP organized protests against a segregated swimming pool, earning Williams and the chapter the enmity of the growing Ku Klux Klan. Williams and his supporters would have a shoot-out with the Klan that summer in defense of one of the chapter’s veteran members. The Monroe chapter began to receive national and international press coverage for its militant defense of African Americans’ rights and emphasis on self-defense. When a white man who had attempted to rape a pregnant black woman was acquitted of all charges, Williams told a reporter that African Americans would “meet violence with violence.” Williams’s remark made headlines, and although he qualified that blacks were not looking for conflict, in later comments he continued to assert the need for armed self-defense against racist violence. Williams’s position infuriated the national leadership of the NAACP, and he was suspended for six months, but he continued to be a controversial figure in the civil rights movement. In 1961, Williams invited Freedom Riders to come to Monroe, resulting in clashes between mobs of angry whites and law enforcement and black protestors and citizens. Williams and the local black community armed themselves waiting for Klan violence. When a white couple accidentally drove into the neighborhood, Williams intervened to save them, but then was charged with kidnapping them and went into exile in Cuba. Williams continued to attack American racism from abroad with his program,“Radio Free Dixie” and served as an inspirational figure for the black power movement. Civil rights activists saw some real successes after World War II. Truman desegregated the armed forces and proposed civil rights legislation, alienating him from the Southern wing of the Democratic Party.106 The promise of real movement by the government on racial issues in postwar America began to fade by the 1950s, however. Legal victories like Brown v. Board of Education were evidence of progress, but enforcement of legal rulings proved difficult, and the NAACP suffered a backlash from racists causing them to lose much of the momentum they had built in the war years. Segregation in the South was still pervasive, and blacks still suffered from obstacles in terms of education and employment. Many of the promises the nation had made to its returning African American soldiers had not been kept. The consensus culture of the postwar years encouraged blacks to continue to look to legal channels for a redress of their grievances, but the Truman and Eisenhower administrations failed to achieve sufficient results on important issues such as voting rights. By

190

SETTLING DOWN

the mid-1950s, many African American veterans were unsatisfied with the complacency of America to tackle these problems and looked to alternate means to effect change. The Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 was the event that proved to be a catalyst to a new movement for the improvement of African American civil rights and provided the type of spark that encouraged many black veterans who had already been at the forefront of reform. Aaron Henry, Charles and Medgar Evers, Ralph Abernathy, and Robert Williams were just some of the veterans who were ready to take on discrimination just as they had fought against Fascism in World War II. But the decision to confront racial segregation with boycotts, marches, and acts of civil disobedience put these vets in direct confrontation with consensus norms that discouraged such challenges to the nation’s legal and political institutions. Labeled Communists and threatened with violence, many black vets continued to press for an end to racial intolerance in the United States. The challenge of many veterans was silenced or mollified by the consensus culture of the postwar era, but many of the nation’s black veterans continued to take on segregation and prejudice. The nonviolent approach of Ralph Abernathy and the more confrontational tactics of Robert F. Williams showed the diversity of black veterans’ views on how to confront racism in the United States. Their military experiences, both positive and negative, provided them with the training they needed to combat racism back home. In doing so, African American veterans proved that the cold war consensus culture could not diminish every challenge to postwar unity or silence all voices of dissent.

Conclusion

I would rather deal with a nonvet than a World War II vet. . . . The “World War II Generation” came out with this attitude. The way to take care of yourself is to fit in with the team. It’s worked good for us. It should work good for you. If you don’t want to fit in, there’s something wrong with you. If you don’t want to loud enough, we’ll cut your water off. . . . That’s what they did in the McCarthy period. They purged all the guys who didn’t fit in. That’s why we didn’t hear any criticism about the country when we went to school in the fifties. Everybody was a team player.1

his quote from a veteran of the Vietnam War, in its criticism of the ex-servicemen of World War II, in many ways supports the heroic understanding that most Americans have of the “Good War” and the men who fought it. But the ex-soldier found the unity of purpose that is a hallmark of the image of World War II veterans to be a negative aspect of the earlier generation; one that inspires conformity and repression rather than acclaim. In supporting the development of the cold war consensus of the 1950s, he implied that World War II vets helped to foster the homogeneity of American cultural and intellectual life. This soldier of another, more controversial war also articulated the popular notion that the return of the World War II veteran was a simple process accomplished without debate or difficulty. The supposed ease of World War II veterans’ return to civilian life, and the unanimity of their postwar opinion, further bolsters their already heroic image while it degrades the accomplishments of soldiers of other wars that can never measure up to the Greatest Generation. The Vietnam vet made important points about the stifling images of heroism and consensus that surrounds the World War II generation, but his

T

192

CONCLUSION

comment reveals the extent to which the veteran dissent in the post–World War II era has been erased from America’s memory. Scholars have been trying to reexamine the war and bring back more of the ambiguity of purpose and questioning nature of World War II veterans, aspects that Americans usually attribute to World War I and, more often, Vietnam veterans. In his controversial account of World War II, Wartime, author and World War II veteran Paul Fussell challenges the “Good War” understanding of the American military experience and discusses soldiers’ “constant verbal subversion and contempt” of the war effort. In a chapter entitled “‘The Real War Will Never Get in the Books,’” Fussell asserts that the roots of this anger lay “in the conviction that optimistic publicity and euphemism had rendered their experience so falsely that it would never be readily communicable.”2 The images of sacrifice and heroism that were a fundamental part of the home front’s motivation were so pervasive upon soldiers’ return that many vets believed there was little point to even attempt to tell their story. The description of the disenchantment of veterans and the limited acceptance of their views in Wartime suggest that disgruntled vets had little opportunity to express their alternative views to the civilian public and may also have had more in common with veterans from other wars than Americans have previously thought. Vets from World War II do have experiences in common with disgruntled soldiers from other wars, but the dissenting views expressed by the soldiers in Wartime and The American Soldier surveys did have a significant place in postwar America. The major media of the immediate postwar years provided forums for many veterans to express sharp critiques of the war, the home front, and the effort to build the postwar nation. However, allowing veterans to offer divergent opinions was also part of a larger project on the home front intended to reacclimate veterans to civilian society. Veterans’ critiques were accepted as part of the postwar discourse surrounding the direction of American society, but veterans’ voices increasingly disappeared if they failed to conform to the norms of the developing cold war consensus. African American servicemen were one group of soldiers whose active political dissent was not subsumed by the postwar consensus, but the vigorous opposition that veterans provided to many home front notions was actively silenced or altered as America moved into the 1950s. One result of the consensus culture’s rejection of dissenting veterans’ views is that the consensus understanding of the war effort and the postwar era helped to create today’s prevalent Greatest Generation image. In trying to find heroes in American history to emulate, much of the

CONCLUSION

193

American public has looked to World War II veterans as paragons of ordinary heroism. These were “average men” who fulfilled their duties as male protectors during the war and after, leading the nation to victory over economic depression, Fascist dictators, and, finally, international Communism. Veterans certainly applauded the creation of many aspects of their heroic image that were an important part of the consensus culture. Though dissenting veterans questioned their status as heroes in the postwar era, many, like John F. Kennedy, were willing to set aside certain reservations in order to provide the type of leadership that they felt the nation needed. Members of the AVC, whose motto proclaimed their opposition to excessive benefits afforded to the nation’s soldiers, used elements of their special social status as veterans to support their policies. The disgruntled veteran in film noir ultimately defended society from forces of moral decay. Consensus norms that labeled male veterans as heroes and the postwar protectors of the nation were largely solidified after the war and became an important piece of the Greatest Generation ideal. Due to the pervasiveness of cold war consensus norms and the power of the image of World War II vets, the strength of the veteran critique of American society has been underestimated or ignored in histories of the period. In his essay “What is a Nation?” nineteenth-century French theorist Ernest Renan commented on why certain elements of a nation’s history disappear: “Forgetting, I would even go so far as to say historical error, is a crucial factor in the creation of a nation, which is why progress in historical studies often constitutes a danger for [the principle of] nationality. Indeed, historical inquiry brings to light deeds of violence which took place at the origin of all political formations, even those whose consequences have been altogether beneficial. Unity is always effected by means of brutality.”3 In the case of World War II veterans, part of the “brutality” that helped foster unity after the war was the cold war consensus, which made discussion of vets’ alternative views unwelcome in an environment that called for heroes and not dissenters. Progressive veterans in the AVC weighed in on national and international issues, offering opinions at odds with the developing cold war consensus. In the periodical literature after the war, veterans attacked rampant materialism in America, the home front’s misunderstandings of the war, and civilians’ prescriptions for veterans in the postwar era. Veteran politicians were offering direct attacks on the conduct of the war and the civilian government during the war years. Current understandings of the 1940s largely

194

CONCLUSION

overlook these challenges, creating a portrait of national unity that slights the diversity of opinion following the war. In giving a fuller portrait of the diversity of the Greatest Generation, I hope to offer a more useful model for those who look to the World War II generation for guidance. Peter Novick has written, “If there are lessons to be extracted from encountering the past, that encounter has to be with the past in all its messiness; they’re not likely to come from an encounter with a past that’s been shaped and shaded so inspiring lessons will emerge.”4 The glorification and subsequent simplification of the World War II veterans’ return has created templates of unity and commitment for all Americans to emulate. In short, the World War II veteran has become a defining figure in postwar history, symbolizing for many Americans what the nation can accomplish if it is significantly motivated and not led astray by ideological or societal divisions. But, as Novick states, the past is messy. Any recounting of the veterans’ return must account for the variety of opinions that ex-soldiers held following the war. Discord was an important part of the immediate postwar years, and veterans must be understood as both important supporters and dissenters in the development of the cold war consensus. By taking another look at the turbulent postwar years and the forgotten diversity of views of World War II vets, new discussions about the successes and failures of the postwar nation can begin. Factoring in the confusion and frustration that veterans felt may make it more difficult to create homogenized histories that have provided Americans with inspiration for decades, but a more nuanced picture of World War II veterans may also lead to a greater appreciation of many vets’ aspirations for a better postwar world, even as they dissented from cold war norms, and prevent the flawed mythmaking that has equated unity and patriotism with silence. A Greatest Generation deserves no less.

Notes

Introduction 1. Although American students are supposedly handicapped by an inability to remember dates from history classes, I have found in all of my various teaching appointments that students overwhelmingly know the importance of December 7, 1941. 2. Tom Brokaw, The Greatest Generation (New York: Delta, 1998), xix–xx. 3. Good Morning America, May 28, 2004. 4. U.S. War Department, Records of the War Department and Special Staffs, Microfilm Copies of Answers to Selected “Free Comment” Questions of “The American Soldier in World War II,” 1943–45, Record Group 165. There are forty-four reels of microfilm, with approximately 1,100 to 1,800 images per reel. Responses are handwritten. Illegible handwriting or poor copying make a number of the images unreadable. 5. Sixteen million was the number of veterans most commonly cited in the media after the war. The Census Bureau’s book of historical statistics lists the numbers as 16.535 million, U.S. Bureau of the Census, Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, Part II (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1975), 1140. 6. Godfrey Hodgson, America in Our Time: From World War II to Nixon, What Happened and Why (New York: Doubleday, 1976) and Iwan Morgan, Beyond the Liberal Consensus: A Political History of the United States since 1965 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1994). 7. Joanne Meyerowitz, ed., Not June Cleaver: Women and Gender in Postwar America, 1945–1960 (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994), 1–16. 8. Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic, 1988).

196

NOTES

9. For a nice overview of the female veteran’s return see Michael D. Gambone, The Greatest Generation Comes Home: The Veteran in American Society (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2006), 90–113.

Chapter 1 1. U.S. War Department, Records of the War Department and Special Staffs, Microfilm Copies of Answers to Selected “Free Comment” Questions of “The American Soldier in World War II,” 1943–45, Record Group 165, Survey 211A, Reel 42. Cited hereinafter as The American Soldier surveys. Specific dates for individual surveys are cited when they were included on a reel. 2. Time, July 9, 1945, 2. 3. U.S. War Department, Office of War Information Research Division Memorandum, “Civilian Attitudes towards the Return of the Veteran,” Record Group 44, Box 1709. 4. William Waller, The Veteran Comes Back (New York: Dryden, 1944), 13. 5. Maxwell Droke, Good-By to G.I.: How to Be a Successful Civilian (New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1945), 30, 42. 6. Dixon Wecter, When Johnny Comes Marching Home (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1944), 17. 7. Ibid. 8. George K. Pratt, Soldier to Civilian, Problems of Readjustment (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1944), 121. 9. Waller, 124. 10. Ibid., 13, italics in original. 11. Droke, 44. 12. Wecter, 19. 13. Waller, 190–91. 14. Pratt, x. 15. Waller, 259. 16. James H. Smith, and Natacha Rambova, The Road Back: A Program of Rehabilitation (New York: Creative Age, 1945), 7. 17. Pratt, 125, 127. 18. War Advertising Council, “How Advertising Can Help the Veteran Readjust to Civilian Life,” (New York: War Advertising Council, 1945), 10. This ad was sponsored by different companies in various periodicals. 19. James H. Bedford, The Veteran and His Future Job (Los Angeles: Society for Occupational Research, 1946), 5. 20. Susan Hartmann, “Prescriptions for Penelope: Literature on Women’s Obligation s to Returning World War II Veterans,” Women’s Studies 5 (1978): 223–39 and The Home front and Beyond: American Women in the 1940s (Boston: Twanyne, 1982).

NOTES

197

21. Susan Faludi, Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man (New York: William Morrow, 1999), 16. 22. Bedford, 14. 23. Droke, 31. 24. Samuel A. Stouffer et al., The American Soldier, Volume One: Adjustment during Army Life (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949), 4. 25. Ibid. 26. Although the free comment section nominally allowed soldiers to add their own thoughts to the survey, they were directed by different aspects of the various surveys. One difference between surveys was the way in which the free comment question was worded. Typically, the last question would read something like, “There are probably other things you would like to comment on. Use this space for any additional comments, complaints, or suggestions you may care to make” (Survey 205, Question 69, Reel 42). But other surveys worded this question differently and thereby shaped the free comment responses for that particular survey. For instance, one survey ended with “We would like you to use this space to write anything else you have to say about your plans after the war” (Question 51, Reel 32). The responses to this question contained a large number of comments about postwar plans and less about other topics that were common in surveys with less-specific free comment questions. In addition, I noticed that the questions leading up to the free comment section affected the type of response given. In another survey, the final questions related to U.S. foreign relations and a large number of the free comment responses related to topics on foreign relations. 27. Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 211. 28. Unfortunately, if not stated directly in a soldier’s comments, or if there is not a survey of a specific group, there is no indication of the soldier’s rank, age, race, and other personal information in the free comment records. Although a large number of soldiers did reveal much about themselves, there is no systematic way of tallying all the comments. 29. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 132-A MSD, June 24, 1944, Reel 7. 30. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 28. 31. Ibid., Reel 29. 32. Ibid., Reel 30. 33. Ibid., Reel 31. 34. Ibid., Reel 34. 35. Ibid., Survey 106-H, Reel 35. 36. Ibid., Survey 90, Reel 20. Although the comments listed here all came from this particular survey, in other surveys not specifically dealing with the WAC, soldiers also expressed many of the same negative attitudes toward having women in the military.

198

NOTES

37. Leisa D. Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996). 38. The American Soldier surveys, Planning Survey V, December 16, 1942, Reel 4. 39. Karen Anderson, Wartime Women and Sex Roles, Family Relations, and the Status of Women during World War II (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1981); Hartmann, The Home front and Beyond; Maureen Honey, Creating Rosie the Riveter: Class, Gender and Propaganda during World War II (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1984); Ruth Milkman, Gender at Work: The Dynamics of Job Segregation by Sex during WWII (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1987). 40. Samuel A. Stouffer et al., The American Soldier, Volume Two: Combat and Its Aftermath (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949), 320. 41. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 106-E, June 14, 1944, Reel 36. 42. Ibid., Survey 143, Reel 26. 43. Ibid., Survey 40, April 26, 1943, Reel 13. 44. Ibid., Survey 143, Reel 26. 45. Ibid., Survey 2B, Reel 23. 46. Ibid., Survey 21, June 30, 1945, Reel 43. 47. Ibid., Survey A-100, February 9, 1944, Reel 24. 48. Ibid., Survey Planning Survey II, Schedule A-1, Reel 1. 49. Ibid., Survey 99, Reel 7. 50. Ibid., Survey 132-A, Reel 8. 51. Ibid., Survey 40, Reel 13. 52. Ibid., Survey 157 EM, November 6, 1944, Reel 40. 53. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 29. 54. Ibid., Survey 106, Reel 33. 55. Ibid., Survey 99, Reel 6. 56. Ibid., Survey 141, July 24, 1944, Reel 25. 57. Ibid., Survey 143, Reel 26. 58. Ibid., Unnamed Survey, Reel 27. 59. Ibid., Survey I-B-14, Reel 40. 60. Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 433. 61. Ibid., 440. 62. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 143, Reel 25. 63. Ibid. 64. Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 441. 65. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 106-O, Reel 31. 66. Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 65. 67. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 64, July 3, 1942, Reel 18. 68. Ibid., Survey 173, Reel 25. 69. Ibid., Survey 157 EM, November 6, 1944, Reel 40. 70. Ibid., Survey 106-0, Reel 31. 71. Ibid., Survey 1 (CPA), Reel 39.

NOTES

72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108.

199

Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 55. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 205, Reel 42. Ibid., Unnamed Survey, Reel 27. Stouffer, The American Soldier, Volume One, 55, 369. The American Soldier surveys, Survey A-100, February 9, 1944, Reel 24. Ibid., Survey 95, Reel 22. Ibid., Survey 106-H, Reel 34. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 32. Michael D. Gambone, The Greatest Generation Comes Home: The Veteran in American Society (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2006), 86. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 95, Reel 22. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 32. Ibid., Survey 106-H, Reel 34. Ibid., Survey 95, Reel 21. Ibid. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 29. Ibid., Reel 30. Ibid., Survey 106 B-1, Reel 33. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, 28. Ibid., Survey 106 Pre-Test A-1, March 16, 1944, Reel 28. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 29. Ibid., Survey 106 Pretest B-3, Reel 33. Ibid., Survey 106-0, June 14, 1944, Reel 29. Ibid. Ibid., Survey SP-144, June 19, 1944, Reel 38. Ibid., Survey 205, May 1945, Reel 41. Robert J. Havighurst, et al., The American Veteran Back Home: A Study of Veteran Readjustment (New York: Longmans, Green, 1951), 74. Ibid., 77 Bill Maudlin, Back Home (New York: William Sloane Associates, 1947), 54, 101. Morton Thompson, How to Be a Civilian (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1946). Thompson, 207. [A Veteran], “It’s Not That I’m Lazy,” Harper’s, February 3, 1946, 295. Ibid., 297. John Bartlow Martin, “Anything Bothering You, Soldier?” Harper’s, November 9, 1945, 455. Charles G. Bolté, “We’re On Our Own,” Atlantic Monthly, May 1947, 27–28. Mark D. Van Ells, To Hear Only Thunder Again: America’s World War II Veterans Come Home (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2000), 57–94, 171–90. Newsweek, July 16, 1945, 54. McCall’s, September 3, 1945, 61.

200 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120.

121. 122.

NOTES

McCall’s, April 1945, 65. Martin, 454. Robert C. Ruark, “The Veteran Says: ‘Aw, Nuts!’” Collier’s, May 10, 1947, 64. Ruth Sulzberger, “Not the G.I.’s Problem but Our Own,” New York Times, February 10, 1946, 22. L. H. Robbins, “What’s Going on in the G.I.’s Mind?” New York Times, April 7, 1946, 18. Leon W. Johnson, “Don’t Let the Veteran Down,” Saturday Evening Post, August 10, 1946, 219. Richard L. Neuberger, “This Is a World I Never Fought For,” New York Times, July 28, 1946, 10. Ruark, 64. Theodore Draper, “There Are No G.I.’s Anymore,” Saturday Evening Post, January 31, 1948, 86. Havighurst, 177 Draper, 86. For the importance of the GI Bill and other veteran benefits, see Davis R. B. Ross, Preparing for Ulysses, Politics and Veterans during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969); Keith W. Olson, The G.I. Bill, the Veterans, and the Colleges (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1974); Suzanne Mettler Soldiers to Citizens: The G.I. Bill and the Making of the Greatest Generation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Gambone, The Greatest Generation Comes Home, 38–89. Van Ells, To Hear Only Thunder Again, 203, 239, 245. Benjamin Bowker, Out of Uniform (New York: Norton, 1946), 235.

Chapter 2 1. Robert S. Allen, “The Battle for Ballots,” PIC, November 1946, 30. 2. John Hersey, “Survival,” New Yorker, June 17, 1944, 31–43. Kennedy’s exploits have become the subject of great debate in the historiography surrounding his command of PT-109. Subsequent histories of PT-109 and Kennedy’s heroism have both supported and challenged the dramatic tale told by Hersey, which became a large piece of the future president’s image and even spawned a movie version of the events starring Glenn Ford as the heroic Kennedy. No history seriously disputes Kennedy’s bravery in saving the life of his injured crewman by swimming him to safety, but historians have still charged Kennedy with incompetence. In The Search for JFK (New York: Putnam, 1976), Joan and Clay Blair assert that Kennedy was not a good commander, his crew members were not at their positions the night of the crash, Kennedy failed to exploit likely chances for rescue and instead indulged in his risky attempts, and the real credit for saving the crew belongs to the Australian observer who guided the rescue effort. An interesting study

NOTES

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19.

201

is Nigel Hamilton’s JFK: Reckless Youth (New York: Random House, 1992), 523–602. Hamilton is critical of Kennedy’s command but does challenge his critics on several points. Regardless, the combination of Kennedy’s genuine bravery, his famous name, and the wartime need for stories of heroism combined to make PT-109 a lasting image connected with the future politician. Ibid., 605. Ibid., 353–54. Ibid., 354. Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1965), 88. Lt. John F. Kennedy, “Kennedy Tells Parley Trends,” Chicago HeraldAmerican, April 28, 1945, 5. Stephen C. Bynum, The Battle of Athens (Chattanooga, TN: Paidia Productions, 1987). Allen, 30. For discussions on Kennedy’s decision, see James MacGregor Burns, John Kennedy: A Political Profile (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1960), 57; Schlesinger, A Thousand Days, 89; Theodore Sorensen, Kennedy (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), 15; Blair, The Search for JFK, 405–7. Charles Bartlett, recorded interview by Fred Holborn, January 6, 1965, John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program (cited hereinafter as JFK Library). Hamilton, 674. Kennedy’s need to understand the economic and social background of the voters in the Eleventh Congressional District was never more apparent then in his first meeting with Patsy Mulkern, an older political insider and possibly the most colorful of Kennedy’s advisors. Mulkern recalled, “First Day I met him he had sneakers on.” I said, “For the love of Christ, take those sneakers off, Jack. You think you’re going to play golf.” Patrick J. Mulkern, recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 27, 1964, JFK Library. Burns, 60–61; Blair, 477–83. Ad in unidentified newspaper, Scrapbooks, 1946–48, John F. Kennedy Papers, Pre-Presidential Papers, Boston Office Files, General Correspondence, 1942–52 (cited hereinafter as Kennedy Papers). Speech by John Cotter, Kennedy Papers, Boston Office Files, General Correspondence, 1942–52, Box 73. William F. Kelly, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. Mark Dalton, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. Anthony Galluccio believed that Kennedy only appeared to be shy, which was a “tremendous asset” in that he was the opposite of the gregarious, Curley-style politician. Anthony Galluccio, recorded interview by Al Benjamin, April 14, 1964, JFK Library. Joseph P. Healy, recorded interview by Robert Healy, April 23, 1964, JFK Library.

202

NOTES

20. “A Kennedy Runs for Congress,” Look, June 11, 1946, 35. 21. Kenneth O’Donnell and David F. Powers with Joe McCarthy, “Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye,” Memories of John Fitzgerald Kennedy (Boston: Little, Brown, 1970), 56. 22. John F. Kennedy, Speech to Young Democrats of New York, October 15, 1946, Kennedy Papers, House Files, Speeches, Boston Office Speech Files, 1946–52, Box 94. 23. Blair, 499. 24. Ralph G. Martin and Ed Plaut, Front Runner, Dark Horse (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1960), 133–34, 140–45; Herbert S. Parmet, Jack: The Struggles of John F. Kennedy (New York: Dial, 1980), 143–44, 151. 25. O’Donnell, 59. 26. Peter Cloherty, recorded interview by John F. Stewart, September 29, 1967, JFK Library. 27. O’Donnell, 59. 28. Anthony Galluccio, recorded interview by Al Benjamin, April 14, 1964, JFK Library. 29. Mark Dalton, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. 30. Martin, 134. 31. See Kennedy Papers, Campaign Files, 1946 and 1952 Campaigns, Issues, and Speeches, Box 98 for a 1946 campaign flier adaptation of this line. 32. John F. Kennedy, Speech to Young Democrats of Pennsylvania, August 8, 1946, Kennedy Papers, Box 94. 33. Parmet, 146. 34. Thomas Broderick, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. 35. O’Donnell, 53–54. 36. John J. Droney, recorded interview by Ed Martin, November 30, 1964, JFK Library. 37. Ibid. 38. Kennedy for Congress Veterans Committee mailer, Kennedy Papers, Campaign Files, 1946 and 1952 Campaigns, Issues, and Speeches, Box 98. 39. Speech of John F. Kennedy, “Responsibility for the Veteran,” April 15, 1946, David Powers Papers, Box 28, John F. Kennedy Presidential Library (cited herein after as Powers Papers). 40. Speech of John F. Kennedy for WNAC radio, “The Veteran,” May 15, 1946, Powers Papers, Box 28. 41. Press release for John F. Kennedy’s 1946 Congressional Campaign, May 16, 1946, Powers Papers, Box 28. 42. John Cotter campaign letter, Kennedy Papers, Boston Office Files, General Correspondence, 1942–52, Box 73. 43. William F. Kelly, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. 44. John J. Droney, recorded interview by Ed Martin, November 30, 1964, JFK Library.

NOTES

203

45. Press release for John F. Kennedy’s 1946 Congressional Campaign, April 22, 1946, Powers Papers, Box 28. 46. James G. Colbert, recorded interview by Ed Martin, April 16, 1964, JFK Library. 47. Blair, 501. 48. Martin, 136. 49. Charles B. Garabedian, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 19, 1964, JFK Library. 50. John H. Davis, The Kennedy’s: Dynasty and Disaster 1848–1984 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1984), 125. 51. Blair, 540. 52. O’Donnell, 66. 53. Hamilton, 755–56. 54. Parmet, 111. 55. Doris Kearns Goodwin, The Fitzgeralds and the Kennedys (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987), 714. 56. Blair, 267. 57. O’Donnell, 67. 58. Speech of John F. Kennedy for 1946 Congressional Campaign “New Generation,” Powers Papers, Box 28. 59. O’Donnell, 55. 60. Ibid., 59. 61. Robert L. Lee, recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 19, 1964, JFK Library. 62. O’Donnell, 67. 63. Martin, 135. 64. Burns, 66. 65. Hirsh Freed, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 5, 1964, JFK Library. 66. Ad from unidentified newspaper, Scrapbooks, 1946–48, Kennedy Papers, Boston Office Files, General Correspondence, 1942–52. 67. Martin, 135. 68. William F. Kelly, recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964, JFK Library. 69. Patrick J. Mulkern, recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 27, 1964, JFK Library. 70. James G. Colbert, recorded interview by Ed Martin, April 16, 1964, JFK Library. 71. Anthony Galluccio called Kennedy’s candidacy the beginning of a “political revolution in Massachusetts” because as a “new type of candidate” people believed that he would be an honest politician. Anthony Galluccio, recorded interview by Al Benjamin, April 14, 1964, JFK Library. 72. Hamilton, 765. 73. Goodwin, 720. 74. Hamilton, 772. 75. Parmet, 188.

204

NOTES

76. William O. Douglas, recorded interview by Jack Hynes, April 6, 1964, JFK Library. 77. Michael D. Gambone, The Greatest Generation Comes Home: The Veteran in American Society (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2006), 84.

Chapter 3 1. For a thorough look at the image of World War II veterans in all films see James I. Deutsch, “Coming Home from ‘The Good War’: World War II Veterans as Depicted in American Film and Fiction,” PhD diss., George Washington University, 1992. 2. I have focused on the films between 1941 and 1958, the so-called “classic” period of film noir. For a discussion on the periodization of the genre, see Alain Silver and James Ursini, eds., Film Noir Reader (New York: Limelight, 1996), 11. 3. Paul Schrader, “Notes on Film Noir,” Film Comment (Spring 1972); reprinted in R. Barton Palmer, Perspectives on Film Noir (New York: G.K. Hall, 1996), 101. 4. Paul Buhle and Dave Watson, Radical Hollywood: The Untold Story behind America’s Favorite Movies (New York: New Press, 2002), 326. 5. Silver and Ursini, 2, 9. 6. Michael D. Gambone, The Greatest Generation Comes Home: The Veteran in American Society (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2006), 155–59. 7. Frank Krutnik, In a Lonely Street: Film Noir, Genre, Masculinity (New York: Routledge, 1991) and Timothy Maxwell Shuker-Haines, “Home Is the Hunter: Representations of Returning World War II Veterans and the Reconstruction of Masculinity, 1944–1951,” PhD diss., University of Michigan, 1994. 8. Roger Tailleur, “The Pink Horse or the Pipe Dreams of the Human Condition,” Postif 9 (1953): 31–34; reprinted in Palmer, 42. 9. Krutnik, 45. 10. James Naremore, More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 106–9. 11. Janey Place,“‘Women in Film Noir,” and Sylvia Harvey,“Woman’s Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir,” in Women in Film Noir, E. Ann Kaplan, ed., (London: BFI, 1980). 12. Krutnik, 171–81. 13. Place, 50. 14. Deborah Thomas, “How Hollywood Deals with Deviant Males,” in The Book of Film Noir, Ian Cameron, ed. (New York: Putnam, 1993), 59–70. 15. Thomas, 63. 16. Buhle and Watson, 357.

NOTES

205

17. 18. 19. 20.

Ibid., 337. John Huston, An Open Book (New York: Doubleday, 1980), 151. A. M. Sperber and Eric Lax, Bogart (New York: William Morrow, 1997), 410. Lillian Ross, “Onward and Upward with the Arts,” New Yorker, February 21, 1948, 40. 21. Huston, 125. 22. Naremore, 123–35. 23. Buhle and Watson, 352.

Chapter 4 1. Letter from “Ensign E.P.,” University Religious Conference Newsletter, January 1944, Papers of the American Veterans Committee, box labeled “Historical Materials—1940,” folder “AVC—History,” The George Washington University Archives, Washington, DC. (cited hereinafter as AVC Papers). These papers have not been thoroughly cataloged at this time. Box information is what has been provided as of the writing of this chapter. 2. See other letters on these themes in University Religious Conference Newsletter (1944–45). Letters from correspondents are also reprinted in Charles G. Bolté, The New Veteran (New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1945), 48–52. 3. Letter from “E.D.,” University Religious Conference Newsletter (1944?), AVC Papers, box labeled “Historical Materials,” folder “AVC—History.” 4. Bolté, 13. 5. Ibid., 28. 6. Ibid., 35. 7. Ibid., 35–36. 8. Ibid., 31–32. 9. American Veterans Committee Seattle Bulletin, Seattle AVC Chapter 3, no. 1 (1945), AVC Papers, box labeled “Historical Materials—1940,” folder “AVC—History.” 10. Statement of the Planning Committee of the American Veterans Committee, July 1944, AVC Papers, box labeled “Historical Materials— 1940,” folder “AVC—History.” 11. Ben Neufeld, phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 10, 2002. 12. J. Arnold Feldman, interview by Robert Francis Saxe, Columbia, MD, August 31, 2002. 13. Bill Mauldin, “Poppa Knows Best,” Atlantic Monthly, April 1947, 32. 14. “Why the AVC?” 1946 American Veterans Recruitment Pamphlet, Gilbert Harrison Papers, Library of Congress Manuscript Collection, Washington, DC. 15. Mademoiselle, October 1946, 300.

206 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

40.

NOTES

Bolté, 36. Ibid., 103–4. Feldman interview. AVC Bulletin, February 1, 1946, 2. Chat Patterson [sic], “The Politics of Housing, I. Veterans Want Action,” Nation, May 15, 1948, 546–48. Federal Bureau of Investigation, Files on the American Veterans Committee, File number HQ 100-339008, (cited hereinafter as FBI-AVC Files), Memo, Los Angeles Office of the FBI, January 15, 1947, serial 83. Patterson, 547; New York Times, February 3, 1948, 6; AVC Bulletin, January 1948, 1; ibid., February 1948, 1; ibid., March 1948, 1. Mauldin, 32. Michael Straight, “The Greatest Guys in the World,” New Republic, July 1, 1946, 926. AVC Bulletin, March 15, 1946, 2; ibid., July 1, 1946, 2; ibid., August 1946, 1. Jennifer Elizabeth Brooks, Defining the Peace: World War II Veterans, Race, and the Remaking of Southern Political Tradition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004), 37–74. FBI-AVC files, Report on the Birmingham, Alabama chapter of the AVC, serial 113. Ronald Reagan, An American Life (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990), 106. Cord Meyer Jr., “Law or War—A Time to Choose,” New Republic, January 27, 1947, 20–21. AVC Bulletin, September 1, 1946, 4. Ibid., May 1, 1946, 2. See membership lists from FBI-AVC files. Women members made up to 15 percent of some chapters. Minutes of the National Planning Committee of the American Veterans Committee, Inc., November 9, 1946, AVC Papers, box “AVC National Planning Committee 1945–1951,” 83. AVC Bulletin, April 1, 1946, 7. Ibid., August 1, 1946, 8. Ibid., September 1, 1946, 1. Ibid., November 1, 1946, 1. Ibid. Lee S. Kreindler, “Must AVC Die,” Memo from the Hanover, New Hampshire American Veterans Committee, January 10, 1947, AVC Papers, box “AVC— Historical Materials.” Charles Bolté to Armed Forces Advisory Council, American Veterans Committee, May 29, 1945, Gilbert Harrison Papers, Library of Congress Manuscript Collection, Washington, DC.

NOTES

207

41. The Radio Wing of the American Veterans Committee, “Radio ABCs for the AVC,” Hollywood, CA: Radio Recorders, June 10, 1946, sound recording, Library of Congress Sound Recording Library. 42. Straight, 926. 43. “The AVC and the Communists,” Newsweek, June 24, 1946, 26. 44. John S. Atlee, “A.V.C. Sets the Pace,” Nation, June 22, 1946, 740–41. 45. Westbrook Pegler, “As Pegler Sees It: The American Veterans’ Committee,” New York Herald, February 19, 1946, 15; Westbrook Pegler, “As Pegler Sees It: The AVC and Its Expressed Aims,” New York Herald, February 23, 1946, 16; Westbrook Pegler, “As Pegler Sees It: A Few More Facts About the AVC,” New York Herald, February 26, 1946, 16. 46. AVC Bulletin, March 15, 1946, 1, 4. 47. Ibid., October 1946, 4. 48. For examples of requests for information on AVC, see FBI-AVC files, serial 1, 2. For an example of early reports, see FBI-AVC files, FBI Report on the Los Angeles Chapter of AVC, June 17, 1946, serial 31. In it the report explains that “a few known Communists have appeared to be active in [AVC] but their program is clearly that of the CP line.” 49. FBI-AVC files, FBI internal memo, December 6, 1946, serial 71. 50. AVC Bulletin, November 1, 1946, 1, 2. 51. Ellen Schrecker, Many Are the Crimes, McCarthyism in America (New York: Little, Brown, and Company, 1998), 82–84; Steven M. Gillon, Politics and Vision: The ADA and American Liberalism, 1947–1985 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 3–32. 52. Steve Rosswurm, “Introduction: An Overview and Preliminary Assessment of the CIO’s Expelled Unions,” in The CIO’s Left-led Unions, Steve Rosswurm, ed. (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1992), 10. 53. Feldman interview. 54. AVC Bulletin, December 1, 1946, 5. 55. Nation, March 1, 1947, 235. 56. AVC Bulletin, December 1947, 1, 5. 57. FBI-AVC files, internal memo from J. Edgar Hoover to the Attorney General, January 20, 1947, serial 87. 58. FBI-AVC files, SAC letter no. 17, Series 1947, serial 86. 59. “Communist Trend in AVC Changed,” New York Times, January 15, 1947, 6. 60. AVC Bulletin, June 1947, 3. 61. FBI-AVC files, Report on Norman, Oklahoma AVC chapter of the AVC, March 14, 1947, serial 9. 62. FBI-AVC files, Report on Boston chapters of AVC, June 9, 1947, serial 137. 63. FBI-AVC files, Report on Philadelphia chapters of AVC, June 25, 1947, serial 141. 64. A FBI report from the convention states national membership at 97,376, with 948 chapters. New York led the country with 32,639 members in 228

208

65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78.

79. 80. 81. 82.

83. 84. 85.

86. 87.

NOTES

chapters. California was second with 10,200 members in 122 chapters, and Illinois, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts had more than 4,000 members each. FBI-AVC files, Report on 1947 National Convention of the AVC, August 1, 1947, serial 148. AVC Bulletin, July 1947, 2. Unity Party Pamphlet, “Which Way for AVC,” FBI-AVC files, Report on 1947 National Convention of the AVC, August 1, 1947, serial 148. AVC Bulletin, July 1947, 5. Ibid., 4. Schrecker, Many Are the Crimes, 31; Harvey A. Levenstein, Communism, Anticommunism, and the CIO (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1981). Gillon, 33–56; Schrecker, 35–36, 310, 317. AVC Bulletin, April 1948, 5. Robert L. Tyler, “The American Veterans Committee: Out of a Hot War and Into the Cold,” American Quarterly 18 (Fall 1966): 430–31; AVC Bulletin, September 1948, 1. New York World Telegram, August 9, 1948, quoted in AVC Bulletin, August 1948, 8. AVC Bulletin, September 1948, 8; Robert L. Tyler, 431–32. AVC Bulletin, November 1948, 2. Ibid., September 1948, 4. Julian Franklin, “Why I Broke with the Communists,” Harper’s, May 1947, 412. Gus Tyler, phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 12, 2002. The description of the Communists’ late-night voting strategy is also described by Frank Bourne, interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 17, 2002, and Feldman interview. The AVC Bulletin, December 1948, 1. Ibid., 4. Quoted in FBI-AVC Files, Report on 1948 National Convention of the AVC, January 7, 1949, serial 206. See FBI-AVC Files, Report on Washington, DC chapters of the AVC, August 9, 1949, serial 221 and FBI-AVC Files, Report on New York chapters of the AVC, October 14, 1949, serial 226. AVC Bulletin, January 1950, 1, 2; Robert L. Tyler, 455. See AVC Papers, box “Women Veterans.” Minutes of the National Planning Committee of the American Veterans Committee, Inc., November 9, 1946, AVC Papers, box “AVC National Planning Committee 1945–1951,” 43–44. Feldman interview; Neufeld phone interview. Howard Zinn, phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, January 28, 2002.

NOTES

209

Chapter 5 1. The American Soldier surveys, Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 37. 2. Ibid., Survey 32, March 9, 1943, Reel 11. 3. Jesse O. Dedmon Jr., Speech to Staten Island branch of the NAACP, June 12, 1945, Speeches by Jesse O. Dedmon Jr., Delaware-North Carolina, 1945–47, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Legal Files, Group-II, Box G-17. 4. Philip A. Klinkner with Rogers M. Smith, The Unsteady March: The Rise and Decline of Racial Equality in America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 161–68, 172–76; John Morton Blum, V Was for Victory: Politics and Culture during World War II (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1976), 182–88; Neil A. Wynn, The Afro-American and the Second World War (New York: Holmes and Meyer, 1975), 48–59; Steven Lawson, Running for Freedom (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983), 9. 5. John Modell, Marc Goulden, and Sigurdur Magnusson, “World War II in the Lives of Black Americans: Some Findings and an Interpretation,” Journal of American History 76 (December 1989): 845–48; Jennifer Elizabeth Brooks, Defining the Peace: World War II Veterans, Race, and the Remaking of Southern Political Tradition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004), 13–36; Charles M. Payne, I’ve Got the Light of Freedom: The Organizing Tradition and the Mississippi Freedom Struggle (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 177. 6. Suzanne Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens: The G.I. Bill and the Making of the Greatest Generation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 142–43. 7. John Dittmer, Local People: The Struggle for Civil Rights in Mississippi (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 9. 8. The American Soldier surveys, Survey I-B-14, Reel 40. 9. Ibid., Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 38. 10. Samuel Stouffer, The American Soldier: Adjustment during Army Life, Vol. 1, Studies in Psychology in World War II (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949), 503. 11. Wynn, 21–38; Sherie Mershon and Steven Schlossman, Foxholes and Color Lines: Desegregating the Armed Forces (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 25–92. 12. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 32, 9 March 1943, Reel 11. 13. Ibid., Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 38. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid., Survey 218, June 30, 1945, Reel 43. 16. Ibid., Survey 205, May 21, 1945, Reel 40. 17. Ibid., Survey I-B-14, Reel 40. 18. Ibid., Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 38. 19. Ibid., Survey 218, June 30, 1945, Reel 43.

210 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

28. 29.

30.

31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

47. 48. 49.

NOTES

Ibid., Survey 205, May 21, 1945, Reel 40. Stouffer, 507. The American Soldier surveys, Survey 32, March 9, 1943, Reel 11. Ibid. Ibid., Survey 32, March 9, 1943, Reel 12. Stouffer, 511–13, 530–32. Letter from seventy soldiers at Camp Peary, VA to NAACP, May 1, 1945, General Correspondence: May–August, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Files, Group-II, Box G-9. Corporal Sydney A. Rotheny to Walter White, September 19, 1941, Soldiers Complaints, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Veteran Affairs, Group-II, Box B-148. Lester E. Carr to NAACP, June 19, 1945, Soldiers Complaints, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Veteran Affairs, Group-II, Box G-15. Pfc. Vernold M. Beebe to Draft Board NYC, September 14, 1943, Soldiers Complaints, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Veteran Affairs, Group-II, Box B-150. “Some Disheartened, Disgusted, Sickened Black Americans” at Geiger Field, Spokane, WA, to the NAACP, August 4, 1942, Soldiers Complaints, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Veteran Affairs, Group-II, Box B-150. Stouffer, 517. Stouffer, 514–18. The American Soldier surveys, Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 38. Ibid. Stouffer, 520. The American Soldier surveys, Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 37. Ibid., Survey 32, March 9, 1943, Reel 11. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., Survey SP-144, July 19, 1944, Reel 37. Ibid., Survey 32, March 9, 1943, Reel 11. Ibid. Ibid., Reel 12. Ibid., Survey 218, June 30, 1945, Reel 43. Walter White, A Man Called White (New York: Viking, 1948), 308–9. Grant Reynolds, “What the Negro Soldier Thinks About This War,” The Crisis, September 1944, 289–91, 299; “What the Negro Soldier Thinks About the War Department,” The Crisis, October 1944, 316–18, 328; “What the Negro Soldier Thinks,” The Crisis, November 1944, 352–53, 357. Reynolds, “What the Negro Soldier Thinks About This War,” 291. Reynolds, “What the Negro Soldier Thinks About the War Department,” 317. Reynolds, “What the Negro Soldier Thinks About the War Department,” 328. See also Grant Reynolds, “What the Negro Soldier Expects,” July 13,

NOTES

50. 51. 52. 53.

54.

55.

56. 57.

58.

59. 60.

61. 62.

211

1944, Papers of the NAACP, Microfilm edition, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 11. Reynolds was inspired by his negative experiences in the armed forces to be an important activist for the desegregation of the military after the war, Klinkner, 218–21. Alphonse Heningburg, “The Negro Veteran Comes Home,” Opportunity (Winter 1945), 3. George B. Nesbitt, “The Negro Soldier Speaks . . . ,” Opportunity (Summer 1944), 120–21. Charles Bolté and Louis Harris, Our Negro Veterans (New York: Public Affairs Committee, 1947), 2–3. Jesse O. Dedmon Jr., Speech to Panel Discussion on Veteran Bonus, Ladies Auxiliary of the National Association of Postal Supervisors, April 27, 1947, Speeches by Jesse O. Dedmon Jr., Delaware-North Carolina, 1945–47, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Legal Files, Group-II, Box G-17. “Walter White’s introductory comments to the NAACP Veterans Conference, 9 November 1945,” Notes from the NAACP Veterans Conference, November 9, 1945, Miscellany: General, 1941–January 31, 1946, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Legal Files, Group-II, Box G-12. “Condensation of Notes Taken at NAACP November 1945,” General Correspondence: November–December 1945, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Legal Files, Group-II, Box G-10. Steven F. Lawson, Black Ballots: Voting Rights in the South, 1944–1969 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), 66. Discussion of Legislation, Notes from the NAACP Veterans Conference, November 9, 1945, Miscellany: General, 1941–January 31, 1946, NAACP Papers, Library of Congress, Armed Forces Legal Files, Group-II, Box G-12. Captain Frederic E. Morrow, “Problems of Veterans: Employment,” June 27, 1946, Papers of the NAACP, Microfilm edition, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 11. Ibid. “A Report to Veterans, Readjustment Through enlistment and Guidance,” The National Council of Negro Veterans, newsletter, October 1946, Veterans: General, 1946, Papers of the NAACP, Library of Congress, General Office Files on Armed Forces Affairs, G-II, Box A-657. Wynn, 31. Vincent Malveaux, “Problems Affecting the Negro Veteran,” June 27, 1946, Papers of the NAACP, Microfilm edition, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 11.

212

NOTES

63. White, 325–28; “Southern Schrecklicheit,” Crisis, September 1946, 276; Monthly Report of the Legal Department for Meeting of the Board, July and August 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 7; Monthly Report of the Secretary for Meeting of the Board, November 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 7. 64. Langston Hughes, Fight for Freedom, The Story of the NAACP (New York: W. W. Norton, 1962), 106; Maurice Weaver and Z. Alexander Looby, “What Happened at Columbia,” Crisis, April 1946, 110–11, 125; Monthly Report of the Secretary for Meeting of the Board, March–November 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 7; White, 308–21. 65. John Egerton, Speak Now Against the Day: The Generation before the Civil Rights Movement in the South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994), 369; Monthly Report of the Secretary for Meeting of the Board, September 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 7. 66. White, 323–25; “Louisiana Mob Slays War Vet,” Pittsburgh Courier, August 24, 1946 1, 4; “3 Deputy Sheriffs among Those Named in Minden Blow Torch Lynching,” Pittsburgh Courier, August 31, 1946, 1, 4; “Mob Victim Redivivus,” The Crisis, October 1946, 309; Monthly Report of the Secretary for Meeting of the Board, September 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, 1909–50, meetings of the board of directors, records of annual conferences, major speeches, and special reports, Reel 7. 67. “A Veteran Unavenged,” Pittsburgh Courier, March 15, 1947, 7. 68. “Cop Kills War Hero,” Pittsburgh Courier, December 15, 1945, 12; “Citizens Condemn Slaying of Veteran,” Pittsburgh Courier, September 21, 1946, 3; A. M. Rivera, Jr., “Ex-Soldier Saved from ‘Mountain Justice,’” Pittsburgh Courier, September 28, 1946, 1, 4; Lucius Jones, “War Veteran Lynched by Mississippi Farmers,” Pittsburgh Courier, June 29, 1946, 1, 4; A. M. Rivera, Jr., “Another Lynching Revealed,” Pittsburgh Courier, December 28, 1946, 1, 4. 69. “Probe into Freeport Killing of GIs Ordered by Governor,” Pittsburgh Courier, July 13, 1946, 2; “Murder,” The Crisis, March 1946, 72; Monthly Report of the Legal Department, February 1946, NAACP Papers, Part I, Reel 7. 70. “Klan Rides Again: Burn Vets Home, Others Warned,” Pittsburgh Courier, December 21, 1946, 1, 4. See also, AVC-FBI files, serial 108. 71. “Eight Hurt as 2 Vets Brave Chicago Mob,” Pittsburgh Courier, December 14, 1946, 1, 4. This scene would be repeated in Cicero, Illinois in 1951 when an African American veteran was confronted by a mob of four thousand whites when he attempted to move into an apartment in a white neighborhood,

NOTES

72.

73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84.

85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

213

Charles Abrams, Forbidden Neighbors (Port Washington, NY: Kennikat, 1971), 103. See Mary L. Dudziak, Cold War Civil Rights: Race and the Image of American Democracy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000); Thomas Borstelmann, The Cold War and the Color Line: American Race Relations in the Global Arena (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001); Azza Salama Layton, International Politics and Civil Rights Politics in the United States, 1941–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000); Jonathan Rosenberg, How Far the Promised Land?: World Affairs and the American Civil Rights Movement from the First World War to Vietnam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005); and John David Skrentny, The Minority Rights Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 2002). David McCullough, Truman (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1992), 589. To Secure These Rights: The Report of the President’s Committee on Civil Rights (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1947), vii. Ibid., 22. Ronald R. Krebs, Fighting for Rights: Military Service And the Politics of Citizenship (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006), 146–66. Dudziak, 28–29. Jackie Robinson, I Never Had It Made (New York: Putnam, 1972), 27–28. Arnold Rampersad, Jackie Robinson: A Biography (New York: Knopf, 1997), 83–112. Ralph David Abernathy, And the Walls Came Tumbling Down (New York: Harper and Row, 1989), 46–47. Aaron Henry with Constance Curry, Aaron Henry: The Fire Ever Burning (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2000), 62. Ibid. Ibid., 63. Numbers of Mississippi’s black veterans in Testimony of G. S. Love, United States Senate, 79th Cong., 2d Sess., Hearings before the Special Committee to Investigate Senatorial Expenditures, 1946 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1947), 231 (hereinafter cited as Bilbo Hearings). Henry, 65. Charles Evers and Andrew Szanton, Have No Fear (New York: Wiley and Sons, 1997), 46. Ibid., 47. Ibid., 48, 59. Ibid., 48. “Alabama Denies Vote Right to Scores of Negro Veterans,” Pittsburgh Courier, February 2, 1946, 1. Langston Hughes, Fight for Freedom: The Story of the NAACP (New York: W. W. Norton, 1962), 112–13; Pittsburgh Courier, August 8, 1946, 1. Brooks, 125–74.

214

NOTES

93. Jackson Daily News, June 6, 1946, and interview on Meet the Press, August 9, 1946, both quoted in Bilbo Hearings, 233. 94. Evers and Szanton, 61. 95. Ibid., 64. 96. Dittmer, 3; “Veterans Beaten; Bilbo Urges Violence to Stop Negro Vote,” Pittsburgh Courier, June 29, 1946, 1, 4; Bilbo Hearings, 12–13. 97. Investigators Report, Bilbo Hearings, 13, 16. 98. Testimony of Joseph Rounds, Bilbo Hearings, 312. 99. Testimony of Richard E. Daniel, Bilbo Hearings, 142–48; testimony of Etoy Fletcher, Bilbo Hearings, 45–57. 100. Testimony of Senator Theodore G. Bilbo, Bilbo Hearings, 102. 101. Dittmer, 1–12. 102. Timothy B. Tyson, Radio Free Dixie: Robert F. Williams and the Roots of Black Power (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999), 48. 103. Ibid., 50. 104. Ibid., 54. 105. Robert F. Williams, Negroes with Guns, Marc Schleifer, ed. (Chicago: Third World, 1973), 51. 106. Dudziak, 18–114.

Conclusion 1. Chuck Noell and Gary Wood, We Are All POWs (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 55–57. 2. Paul Fussell, Wartime: Understanding and Behavior in the Second World War, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 267–68. 3. Ernest Renan, “What Is a Nation?” in Nation and Narration, Homi K. Bhaba, ed., (New York: Routledge, 1990), 8. 4. Peter Novick, The Holocaust in American Life (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1999), 261.

Bibliography

Primary Sources Archival Sources and Manuscript Collections American Veterans Committee. Papers. The George Washington University Archives, Washington, DC. Federal Bureau of Investigations. Files on the American Veterans Committee. File HQ 100–339008. In author’s possession. Harrison, Gilbert. Papers. Library of Congress Manuscript Collection, Washington, DC. Kennedy, John F. Pre-Presidential Papers. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston, MA. National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Papers. Armed Forces Legal Files, Library of Congress Manuscript Collection, Washington, DC. ———. Papers. Veteran Affairs Files, Library of Congress Manuscript Collection, Washington, DC. Powers, David. Papers. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston, MA. The Radio Wing of the American Veterans Committee. “Radio ABCs for the AVC,” Hollywood, CA, Radio Recorders, June 10, 1946, sound recording. Recorded Sound Reference Center, Library of Congress, Washington, DC. U.S. War Department. Office of War Information, Research Division Memorandum, “Civilian Attitudes towards the Return of the Veteran,” Record Group 44, Box 1709, National Archives II, College Park, MD. ———. Records of the War Department and Special Staffs. Microfilm Copies of Answers to Selected “Free Comment” Questions of “The American Soldier in World War II,” 1943–45, Record Group 165, National Archives II, College Park, MD.

216

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Newspapers and Periodicals AVC Bulletin, 1946–55. Crisis, 1943–50. Daily Worker, 1946–49. Life, 1943–50. McCall’s, 1943–50. New York Herald, 1946. New York Times, 1943–50. Opportunity, 1943–58. Pittsburgh Courier, 1943–50. Time, 1943–50. Washington Post, 1946–48.

Interviews Bartlett, Charles. Recorded interview by Fred Holborn, January 6, 1965. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Bourne, Frank. Phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 17, 2002. Broderick, Thomas. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Cloherty, Peter. Recorded interview by John F. Stewart, September 29, 1967. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Colbert, James G. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, April 16, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Dobie, Frank E. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 19, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program Douglas, William O. Recorded interview by Jack Hynes, April 6, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Droney, John J. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, November 30, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Feldman, J. Arnold. Interview by Robert Francis Saxe, Columbia, MD, August 31, 2002. Freed, Hirsh. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 5, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Galluccio, Anthony. Recorded interview by Al Benjamin, April 14, 1964, John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Garabedian, Charles B. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 19, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Healey, Joseph P. Recorded interview by Robert Healy, April 23, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Kelly, William F. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, June 1, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

217

Lee, Robert L. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 19, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Mulkern, Patrick J. Recorded interview by Ed Martin, May 27, 1964. John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Neufeld, Ben. Phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 10, 2002. Sutton, William. Recorded interview by Jack Hynes, April 6, 1964, John F. Kennedy Library Oral History Program. Tyler, Gus. Phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, September 12, 2002. Zinn, Howard. Phone interview by Robert Francis Saxe, January 28, 2002.

Government Publications President’s Committee on Civil Rights. “To Secure These Rights: The Report of the President’s Committee on Civil Rights.” Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1947. U.S. Bureau of the Census. “Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, Part II.” Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1975. U.S. Congress. Senate. Special Committee to Investigate Senatorial Expenditures. Hearings before the Special Committee to Investigate Senatorial Expenditures, 1946. 79th Cong., 2d Sess. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1947.

Films Act of Violence. MGM, 1949. Produced by William H. Wright. Directed by Fred Zinnemann. Screenplay by Robert L. Richards, based on Collier Young’s story. Cast: Van Heflin, Robert Ryan, Janet Leigh, and Mary Astor. Blue Dahlia, The. Paramount, 1946. Produced by John Houseman. Directed by George Marshall. Screenplay by Raymond Chandler, based on his story. Cast: Alan Ladd, Veronica Lake, William Bendix, and Howard da Silva. Bribe, The. MGM, 1949. Produced by Pandro Berman. Directed by Robert Z. Leonard. Screenplay by Maugerite Roberts, based on Frederick Nobel’s short story. Cast: Robert Taylor, Ava Gardner, Charles Laughton, Vincent Price, and John Hodiak. Brute Force. Universal, 1947. Produced by Mark Hellinger. Directed Jules Dassin. Screenplay by Richard Brooks, based on Robert Patterson’s story. Cast: Alan Ladd, Burt Lancaster, Hume Cronyn, Charles Bickford, and Howard Duff. Chase, The. United Artists, 1946. Produced by Seymour Nebenzal. Directed by Arthur Ripley. Screenplay by Philip Yordan, based on Cornell Woolrich’s novel, The Black Path of Fear. Cast: Robert Cummings, Michele Morgan, Steve Cochran, and Peter Lorre.

218

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Clay Pigeon, The. RKO, 1949. Produced by Herman Schlom. Directed by Richard O. Fleischer. Screenplay by Carl Forman. Cast: Bill Williams, Barbara Hale, Richard Quine, and Richard Loo. Cornered. RKO, 1945. Produced by Adrian Scott. Directed by Edward Dmytryk. Screenplay by John Paxton, based on a story by John Wexley. Cast: Dick Powell, Walter Slezak, and Michelle Cheiral. Crack-Up. RKO, 1946. Produced by Jack J. Gross. Directed by Irving Reis. Screenplay by John Paxton, based on Frederic Brown’s story. Cast: Pat O’Brien, Claire Trevor, Herbert Marshall, and Ray Collins. Crooked Way, The. United Artists, 1949. Produced by Benedict Bogeaus. Directed by Robert Florey. Screenplay by Richard H. landau, based on Robert Monroe’s radio play, “No Blade Too Sharp.” Cast: John Payne, Sonny Tufts, Ellen Drew, and Rhys Williams. Crossfire. RKO, 1947. Produced by Dore Schary and Adrian Scott. Directed by Edward Dmytryk. Screenplay by John Paxton, based on Richard Brooks’s novel, The Brick Foxhole. Cast: Robert Young, Robert Mitchum, Robert Ryan, and Gloria Grahame. Dead Reckoning. Columbia, 1947. Produced by Sidney Biddell. Directed by John Cromwell. Screenplay by Oliver H. P. Garrett and Steve Fisher, based on Alan Rivkin’s story. Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Lizabeth Scott, Morris Carnovsky, and William Prince. Detective Story. Paramount, 1951. Produced and directed by William Wyler. Screenplay by Philip Yordan and William Wyler, based on Sidney Kingsley’s play. Cast: Kirk Douglas, Eleanor Parker, Cathy O’Donnell, and William Bendix. Guilty, The. Monogram, 1947. Produced by Jack Wrather. Directed by John Reinhardt. Screenplay by Robert R. Presnell, based on Cornell Woolrich’s story, “He Looked Like Murder.” Cast: Don Castle, Wally Cassell, and Bonita Granville. High Wall, The. MGM, 1947. Produced by Robert Lord. Directed by Curtis Bernhardt. Screenplay by Sidney Boehm and Lester Cole, based on Alan R. Clark’s novel. Cast: Robert Taylor, Audrey Trotter, Herbert Marshall, and Dorothy Patrick. Hoodlum Empire. Republic, 1952. Produced and directed by Joseph Kane. Screenplay by Bruce Manning and Bob Considine. Cast: Brian Donlevy, Claire Trevor, Forrest Tucker, and Vera Ralston. I, the Jury. United Artists, 1953. Produced by Victor Saville. Directed by Harry Essex. Screenplay by Harry Essex, based on Mickey Spillane’s novel. Cast: Biff Elliot, Peggie Castle, and Preston Foster. In a Lonely Place. Columbia, 1950. Produced by Robert Lord. Directed by Nicholas Ray. Screenplay by Andrew Solt, based on Dorothy B. Hughes’s novel. Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Gloria Grahame, Frank Lovejoy, and Art Smith.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

219

Key Largo. Warner Brothers, 1948. Produced by Jerry Wald. Directed by John Huston. Screenplay by Richard Brooks and John Huston, based on Maxwell Anderson’s play. Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Edward G. Robinson, Lauren Bacall, Lionel Barrymore, and Claire Trevor. Kiss the Blood Off My Hands. Universal, 1948. Produced by Richard Vernon. Directed by Norman Foster. Screenplay by Leonardo Bercovici, based on Gerald Butler’s novel. Cast: Burt Lancaster, Joan Fontaine, and Robert Newton. Long Night, The. RKO, 1947. Produced and directed by Anatole Litvak. Screenplay by John Wexley, based on Jacques Viot’s screenplay for Le Jour se Leve. Cast: Henry Fonda, Barbara Bel Geddes, and Vincent Price. Macao. RKO, 1952. Produced by Alex Gottlieb. Directed by Josef Von Sterberg. Screenplay by Bernard C. Schoenfeld and Stanley Rubin, based on Bob Williams’s story. Cast: Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, and William Bendix. Nobody Lives Forever. Warner Brothers, 1946. Produced by Robert Buckner. Directed by Jean Negulesco. Screenplay by W. R. Burnett, based on his novel. Cast: John Garfield, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Walter Brennan, and Faye Emerson. Ride the Pink Horse. Universal, 1947. Produced by Joan Harrison. Directed by Robert Montgomery. Screenplay by Ben Hecht and Charles Lederer, based on Dorothy B. Hughes’s novel. Cast: Robert Montgomery, Wanda Hendrix, Thomas Gomez, Fred Clark, and Art Smith. Slattery’s Hurricane. Twentieth Century Fox, 1949. Produced by William Perlberg. Directed by Andre de Toth. Screenplay by Herman Wouk and Richard Murphy, based on Herman Wouk’s story. Cast: Richard Widmark, Linda Darnell, Veronica Lake, and John Russell. Somewhere in the Night. Twentieth Century Fox, 1946. Produced by Anderson Lawler. Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Screenplay by Howard Dimsdale and Joseph L. Mankiewicz, based on Marvin Borrowsky’s story. Cast: John Hodiak, Nancy Guild, Lloyd Nolan, and Richard Conte. Spellbound. United Artists, 1945. Produced by David O. Selznick. Directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Screenplay by Ben Hecht, based on Francis Beeding’s novel. Cast: Gregory Peck, Ingrid Bergman, and Michael Chekhov. Thieves’ Highway. Twentieth Century Fox, 1949. Produced by Robert Bassler. Directed by Jules Dassin. Screenplay by A. I. Bezzerides, based on his novel. Cast: John Conte, Valentina Cortesa, Lee J. Cobb, and Barbara Lawrence. Undertow. Universal, 1949. Produced by Ralph Dietrich. Directed by William Castle. Screenplay by Lee Loeb and Arthur T. Horman, based on Horman’s story, “The Big Frame.” Cast: Scott Brady, John Russell, Dorothy Hart, and Peggy Dow. Violence. Monogram, 1947. Produced by Jack Bernard and Bernard Brandt. Directed by Jack Bernhard. Screenplay by Stanley Rubin and Louis Lantz. Cast: Nancy Coleman, Michael O’Shea, Emory Parnell, and Sheldon Leonard.

220

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Secondary Sources Articles Allen, Robert S. “The Battle for Ballots,” PIC, November 1946, 30–35. Atlee, John S. “A.V.C. Sets the Pace,” Nation, June 22, 1946, 740–41. “The AVC and the Communists,” Newsweek, June 24, 1946, 26. Bolté, Charles G. “We’re On Our Own,” Atlantic Monthly, May 1947, 27–33. Draper, Theodore. “There Are No GIs Anymore,” Saturday Evening Post, January 31, 1948, 26–27, 86–88. Durgnat, Raymond. “Paint It Black: The Family Tree of Film Noir,” Film Comment, November 6, 1974, 6–7; reprinted in Perspectives on Film Noir, R. Barton Palmer, ed., New York: G. K. Hall, 1996, 96–106. Franklin, Julian. “Why I Broke with the Communists,” Harper’s, May 1947, 412–18. Hersey, John. “Survival,” New Yorker, June 17, 1944, 31–43. Johnson, Leon W. “Don’t Let the Veteran Down,” Saturday Evening Post, August 10, 1946, 37–38, 219–20. “A Kennedy Runs for Congress,” Look, June 11, 1946, 35. Kennedy, Lt. John F. “Kennedy Tells Parley Trends,” Chicago Herald-American, April 28, 1945, 5. Maltby, Richard.“The Politics of the Maladjusted Text,” Journal of American Studies 18, no. 1, 1984; reprinted in The Book of Film Noir, Ian Cameron ed., New York: Continuum, 1993, 35–46. Martin, John Bartlow. “Anything Bothering You, Soldier?” Harper’s, November 9, 1945, 453–57. Mauldin, Bill. “Poppa Knows Best,” Atlantic Monthly, April 1947, 32–35. Meyer Jr., Cord. “Law or War—A Time to Choose,” New Republic, January 27, 1947, 20–21. Modell, John, Marc Goulden, and Sigurdur Magnusson. “World War II in the Lives of Black Americans: Some Findings and an Interpretation,” Journal of American History 76, December 1989, 845–49. Neuberger, Richard L. “This Is a World I Never Fought For,” New York Times Magazine, July 28, 1946, 10. Patterson [sic], Chat. “The Politics of Housing, I. Veterans Want Action,” Nation, May 15, 1948, 546–48. Polenberg, Richard. “The Good War? A Reappraisal of How World War II Affected American Society,” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 100, no. 3, July 1993, 295–322. Renan, Ernest, “What Is a Nation?” in Nation and Narration, Homi K. Bhaba, ed., New York: Routledge, 1990. Robbins, L. H. “What’s Going on in the G.I.’s Mind?” New York Times Magazine, April 7, 1946, 18–20. Ross, Lillian. “Onward and Upward with the Arts,” New Yorker, February 21, 1948, 32–36, 38–42.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

221

Ruark, Robert C. “The Veteran Says: ‘Aw, Nuts!’” Collier’s, May 10, 1947, 11–13, 64–65. Schrader, Paul.“Notes on Film Noir,” Film Comment, spring 1972, 8–13, reprinted in Perspectives on Film Noir, R. Barton Palmer, ed., New York: G. K. Hall, 1996. Straight, Michael. “The Greatest Guys in the World,” New Republic, July 1, 1946, 926–27. Sulzberger, Ruth. “Not the G.I.’s Problem but Our Own,” New York Times Magazine, February 10, 1946, 22–23. Tailleur, Roger. “The Pink Horse or the Pipe Dreams of the Human Condition,” Postif no. 9, 1953, 31–34, reprinted in Perspectives on Film Noir, R. Barton Palmer, ed., New York: G. K. Hall, 1996, 100–5. Thomas, Deborah. “How Hollywood Deals with Deviant Males, in The Book of Film Noir,” Ian Cameron, ed., New York: Putnam, 1993, 59–70. Tyler, Robert L. “The American Veterans Committee: Out of a Hot War and into the Cold,” American Quarterly 18, fall 1966, 430–38. Vernet, Marc. “Film Noir on the Edge of Doom,” in Shades of Noir, A Reader, Joan Copjec, ed., New York: Verso, 1993, 1–32. [A Veteran]. “It’s Not That I’m Lazy,” Harper’s, February 3, 1946, 295–97.

Books Abernathy, Ralph David. And the Walls Came Tumbling Down. New York: Harper and Row, 1989. Abrams, Charles. Forbidden Neighbors. Port Washington, NY: 1971. Anderson, Karen. Wartime Women and Sex Roles, Family Relations, and the Status of Women during World War II. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1981. Bedford, James H. The Veteran and His Future Job. Los Angeles: Society for Occupational Research, 1946. Blum, John Morton. V Was for Victory: Politics and Culture during World War II. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1976. Bolté, Charles G. The New Veteran. New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1945. Bolté, Charles G., and Louis Harris. Our Negro Veterans. New York: Public Affairs Committee, 1947. Borstelmann, Thomas. The Cold War and the Color Line: American Race Relations in the Global Arena. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001. Bowker, Benjamin. Out of Uniform. New York: Norton, 1946. Brokaw, Tom. The Greatest Generation. New York: Delta, 1998. Brooks, Jennifer Elizabeth. Defining the Peace: World War II Veterans, Race, and the Remaking of Southern Political Tradition. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004. Buhle, Paul, and Dave Watson. Radical Hollywood: The Untold Story behind America’s Favorite Movies. New York: New Press, 2002. Burns, James MacGregor. John Kennedy: A Political Profile. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1960.

222

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bynum, Stephen C. The Battle of Athens. Chattanooga, TN: Paidia Productions, 1987. Davis, John H. The Kennedy’s: Dynasty and Disaster 1848–1984. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1984. Dittmer, John. Local People: The Struggle for Civil Rights in Mississippi. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994. Droke, Maxwell. Good-By to G.I.: How to Be a Successful Civilian. New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1945. Dudziak, Mary L. Cold War Civil Rights: Race and the Image of American Democracy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000. Egerton, John. Speak Now Against the Day: The Generation before the Civil Rights Movement in the South. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994. Evers, Charles, and Andrew Szanton. Have No Fear. New York: Wiley and Sons, 1997. Fussell, Paul. Wartime: Understanding and Behavior in the Second World War. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Gambone, Michael D. The Greatest Generation Comes Home: The Veteran in American Society. College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2005. Goodwin, Doris Kearns. The Fitzgeralds and the Kennedys. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987. Hamilton, Nigel. JFK: Reckless Youth. New York: Random House, 1992. Hartmann, Susan. The Homefront and Beyond: American Women in the 1940s. Boston: Twanyne, 1982. Havighurst, Robert J., et al. The American Veteran Back Home: A Study of Veteran Readjustment. New York: Longmans, Green, 1951. Henry, Aaron, with Constance Curry. Aaron Henry: The Fire Ever Burning. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2000. Hodgson, Godfrey. America in Our Time: From World War II to Nixon, What Happened and Why. New York: Doubleday, 1976. Honey, Maureen. Creating Rosie the Riveter: Class, Gender and Propaganda during World War II. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1984. Hughes, Langston. Fight for Freedom: The Story of the NAACP. New York: W. W. Norton, 1962. Huston, John. An Open Book. New York: Doubleday, 1980. Kaplan, E. Ann, ed. Women in Film Noir. London: BFI, 1980. Klinkner, Philip A., with Rogers M. Smith. The Unsteady March: The Rise and Decline of Racial Equality in America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Krebs, Ronald R. Fighting for Rights: Military Service and the Politics of Citizenship. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006. Krutnik, Frank. In a Lonely Street: Film Noir, Genre, Masculinity. New York: Routledge, 1991.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

223

Lawson, Steven F. Black Ballots: Voting Rights in the South, 1944–1969. New York: Columbia University Press, 1976. ———. Running for Freedom. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983. Layton, Azza Salama. International Politics and Civil Rights Politics in the United States, 1941–1960. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Martin, Ralph G., and Ed Plaut. Front Runner, Dark Horse. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1960. Maudlin, Bill. Back Home. New York: William Sloane Associates, 1947. May, Elaine Tyler. Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era. New York: Basic, 1988. McCullough, David. Truman. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1992. Mershon, Sherie, and Steven Schlossman. Foxholes and Color Lines: Desegregating the Armed Forces. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. Mettler, Suzanne. Soldiers to Citizens: The G.I. Bill and the Making of the Greatest Generation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Meyer, Leisa D. Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996. Meyerowitz, Joanne, ed. Not June Cleaver: Women and Gender in Postwar America, 1945–1960. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994. Milkman, Ruth. Gender at Work: The Dynamics of Job Segregation by Sex during WWII. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1987. Morgan, Iwan. Beyond the Liberal Consensus: A Political History of the United States since 1965. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1994. Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in Its Contexts. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Noell, Chuck and Gary Wood. We Are All POWs. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975. Novick, Peter. The Holocaust in American Life. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1999. O’Donnell, Kenneth, and David F. Powers with Joe McCarthy. “Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye,” Memories of John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Boston: Little, Brown, 1970. Olson, Keith W. The G.I. Bill, the Veterans, and the Colleges. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1974. Parmet, Herbert S. Jack: The Struggles of John F. Kennedy. New York: Dial, 1980. Payne, Charles M. I’ve Got the Light of Freedom: The Organizing Tradition and the Mississippi Freedom Struggle. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995. Pratt, George K. Soldier to Civilian, Problems of Readjustment. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1944. Reagan, Ronald. An American Life. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990. Robinson, Jackie. I Never Had It Made. New York: Putnam, 1972. Rosenberg, Jonathan. How Far the Promised Land?: World Affairs and the American Civil Rights Movement from the First World War to Vietnam. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005.

224

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ross, Davis R. B. Preparing for Ulysses, Politics and Veterans during World War II. New York: Columbia University Press, 1969. Schlesinger, Arthur M. A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1965. Silver, Alain, and James Ursini, eds. Film Noir Reader. New York: Limelight, 1996. Skrentny, John David. The Minority Rights Revolution. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 2002. Smith, Graham. When Jim Crow Met John Bull: Black American Soldiers in World War II Britain. London: I. B. Tauris, 1987. Smith, James H., and Natacha Rambova. The Road Back: A Program of Rehabilitation. New York: Creative Age, 1945. Sorensen, Theodore. Kennedy. New York: Harper and Row, 1965. Sperber, A. M., and Eric Lax. Bogart. New York: William Morrow, 1997. Stouffer, Samuel A., et al., The American Soldier, Volume One: Adjustment during Army Life. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949. ———. The American Soldier, Volume Two: Combat and Its Aftermath. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1949. Thompson, Morton. How to Be a Civilian. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1946. Tyson, Timothy B. Radio Free Dixie: Robert F. Williams and the Roots of Black Power. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999. Van Ells, Mark D. To Hear Only Thunder Again: America’s World War II Veterans Come Home. Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2000. Waller, William. The Veteran Comes Back. New York: Dryden, 1944. Wecter, Dixon. When Johnny Comes Marching Home. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1944. White, Walter. A Man Called White. New York: Viking, 1948. Williams, Robert F. Negroes with Guns. Chicago: Third World, 1973. Wynn, Neil A. The Afro-American and the Second World War. New York: Holmes and Meyer, 1975.

Dissertations Deutsch, James I. “Coming Home from ‘The Good War’: World War II Veterans as Depicted in American Film and Fiction.” PhD diss., George Washington University, 1992. Shuker-Haines, Timothy Maxwell. “Home Is the Hunter: Representations of Returning World War II Veterans and the Reconstruction of Masculinity, 1944–1951.” PhD diss., University of Michigan, 1994.

Index Abernathy, Ralph, 182–83, 190 Act of Violence, 91, 109 advertising, veterans in, 13–14, 18–20, 43–45 advice literature for veterans, 14–18, 20–22, 40–51 African American veterans, 7–8, 38–39, 129–30, 136, 155–90, 192; and civil rights activism, 157–58, 181–90; and postwar reception by white America, 166–67, 173–78; and postwar role, 157–58, 162–66, 167–72; and President Truman, 178–80; and segregation in the military, 159–62, 181–82, 183, 185 American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), 141 American Legion, 81, 117, 118, 124–26, 127, 129, 132, 137, 139, 152, 153 American Soldier, The, 3, 5, 21–23, 41, 50, 55, 66, 119, 121, 156, 158–59, 162, 163–64, 182, 192. See also free comment responses American Veterans (AMVETS), 118, 151 American Veterans Committee (AVC), 7, 43, 117–53, 169, 193; and attempts to expel Communist members, 145–53; and civil rights, 129–30, 152; and drop in membership, 151–52; and FBI investigation of group, 140, 144–45, 151; and housing issues, 128–29; and problems with radicals, 136–38, 140–53; and women veterans, 133–35, 152; as alternative to American Legion, 124–26

Americans for Democratic Action (ADA), 141, 147 Americans United for World Organization, 131 Andrews, Dana, 106 Athens, Battle of, 58, 131 Bacall, Lauren, 109 Barrymore, Lionel, 109 Bartlett, Charles, 59 Battle of San Pietro, The, 110 Bel Geddes, Barbara, 103 Bells, Eugene, 177 Bendix, William, 94, 106 Benson, Julie, 105 Bernhard, Jack, 108 Bernhardt, Curtis, 89 Best Years of Our Lives, The, 84 Between Midnight and Dawn, 92 Bilbo, Theodore, 161, 185–87 Blue Dahlia, The, 85, 90, 94, 98–99, 105 Bogart, Humphrey, 83, 92, 93, 97, 109 Bolling, Richard, 128 Bolté, Charles, 43, 120–24, 126, 127, 130, 135, 139–40, 141, 145–46, 169–70 Boomerang, 109 Bradley, Omar, 137 Brady, Scott, 101 Bribe,The, 87, 88, 90, 98 Broderick, Thomas, 67 Brokaw, Tom, 2 Brown, Lester, 79 Brute Force, 94, 109 Carnovsky, Morris, 89 Cassell, Wally, 89, 92

226

INDEX

Castle, Don, 92 Castle, Peggy, 97 Castle, William, 89 Chandler, Raymond, 94 Chase, The, 87, 89, 90 Clark, Fred, 95 Clay Pigeon, The, 90, 91, 92, 94 Cloerty, Joe, 151 Cloherty, Peter, 65 Colbert, James, 72, 80 cold war consensus, 4–9, 13, 49–51, 74, 80–81, 82, 84–86, 114–15, 118–19, 123, 130–31, 132–33, 139, 156–57, 180–81, 189–90, 191–94 Columbia race riot, 175–76 Communist Party of the United States (CPUSA), 142, 148 Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO), 141, 147 Conte, Richard, 88 Cooper, George A., 107 Cornered, 90, 91 Cortese, Valentina, 105 Cotter, John, 61–62, 64, 67, 70–71, 76, 79 Crohn, Richard, 148–49 Cromwell, John, 92 Crooked Way, The, 90 Crossfire, 88, 94, 107, 109 Cummings, Robert, 87 Curley, James Michael, 60, 65, 70, 80 Dalton, Mark, 62, 65 Daniel, Richard, 187 Dassin, Jules, 83, 88, 94 De Toth, Andre, 96 Dead Reckoning, 92, 97, 99, 100 Dedmon, Jesse O., Jr., 170 Detective Story, 89, 106 Disabled Veterans of America, 77, 117, 139 Dmytryk, Edward, 83, 88, 90, 91 Double Indemnity, 85, 94 Douglas, Melvyn, 128 Douglas, William O., 82

Dow, Peggy, 101 Dowling, Doris, 98 Droney, John, 68, 71 Dubinsky, David, 141, 149–50 Duff, Howard, 94 Eastland, James, 161 Eisenhower, Dwight, 129 Elliot, Biff, 97 Emerson, Faye, 89 Evers, Charles, 184–86, 190 Evers, Medger, 130, 184–86, 190 Fair Employment Practices Committee (FEPC), 157 Fairbanks, Douglas, 128 Falvey, Catherine, 61, 79 Fay, Red, 63 Feldman, J. Arnold, 124, 126, 142, 152 Ferguson, Charles, 177 film noir, 6–7, 83–115, 193; and the disappearance of film noir veterans, 114–15; and left-wing filmmakers, 108–14; and veterans with amnesia, 90–91; and women characters, 96–106; in support of consensus norms, 84–86, 94–95, 100; origins, 84–85 Fitzgerald, Geraldine, 102 Fitzgerald, John F., 60–61 Fitzgerald, John I., 80 Fleischer, Richard, 90 Fletcher, Etoy, 187 Florey, Robert, 90 Fonda, Henry, 103 Fontaine, Joan, 102 Foster, Norman, 89 free comment responses: African American soldiers, 38–39, 155, 158–63; African American soldiers on segregation, 159–62, 165; on authority, 34–35; on being left alone, 35–37; on homefront materialism, 27–28; on homefront politicians, 28–29; on homefront strikes, 28; on lack off respect from

INDEX

civilians, 29–30, 165; on life in the military, 32–33; on military service, 31–32, 162–63; on postwar reform, 37–39, 165–66; on postwar role, 30–31, 35–39, 162–66; on women’s army corps, 24–26. See also American Soldier, The Fussell, Paul, 192 Galbraith, John Kenneth, 141 Gallucio, Anthony, 65, 68 Galvin, John, 73 Garabedian, Charles B., 73 Garfield, John, 83, 89 Gates, John, 148 Grahame, Gloria, 93 Greatest Generation, 2–3, 8–9, 191, 192–94 Guenther, Adaline, 119 Guild, Nancy, 91 Guilty, The, 90, 92, 94 Harris, Albert, 176–77 Harris, Lewis, 169–70 Harrison, Gilbert, 119, 137–39, 146, 151 Hart, Dorothy, 89 Hayworth, Rita, 83 Healey, Joseph, 62 Heflin, Van, 91 Hendrix, Wanda, 105 Heningburg, Alphonse, 169 Henry, Aaron, 183–84, 190 Hersey, John, 55 High Wall, The, 89, 90, 98 Hill, Craig, 89 Hodiak, John, 90 Hoodlum Empire, 101, 105 Hoover, J. Edgar, 140 House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), 109, 110, 114 Howard, William, 177 Hughs, Langston, 176 Huston, John, 83, 85, 110–13, 128

227

I, the Jury, 92, 97–100 In a Lonely Place, 93–94 Jones, John C., 176–77, 180 Kane, Joe, 64, 66 Kane, Joseph, 101 Kazan, Elia, 83, 106 Kelley, James, 71 Kelly, Bill, 62 Kennedy, Arthur, 106 Kennedy, Eunice, 79 Kennedy, Jean, 79 Kennedy, John F., 5–6, 53–82, 122, 129, 193; and campaign skills, 62, 67; and campaign tactics, 64, 70, 72, 76–77, 78–79; and decision to enter into politics, 59–60; and health, 77; and impact of congressional campaign, 79–80; and PT-109, 54–56, 72–75, 77, 79, 81; and veteran campaign workers, 65–66; as reporter at UN conference, 56–57; as representative, 81–82 Kennedy, Joseph, 59–64, 73, 79 Kennedy, Patrick J., 60 Key Largo, 85, 92, 105, 109–13 Kiss the Blood Off My Hands, 89, 102, 105 Ladd, Alan, 83, 89, 98 Lake, Veronica, 92, 105 Lancaster, Burt, 83, 89 Le Jour Se Leve, 105 Lee, Joseph, 61, 79 Leonard, Robert Z., 87 Lewis, John L., 28 Litvak, Anatole, 87, 104 Lodge, Henry Cabot, 80, 128 Long Night, The, 87, 102–5, 109 Lovejoy, Frank, 93 Luce, Henry, 66 Macao, 89, 101, 105 Magnuson, Warren, 128 Malveaux, Vincent, 174

228

INDEX

Mankiewicz, Joseph L., 87 Marshall, George, 85 Mauldin, Bill, 40, 124–25, 129, 146 McCarthy, Joseph, 80, 131 McDonald, Torbert, 63 McLaughlin, Ed, 63 McMahon, Pappy, 75, 77, 78 Miller, Merle, 152 Mitchum, Robert, 88, 89 Monroe lynching, 176 Montgomery, Robert, 88, 95, 114 Morrow, Frederic E., 172 Murphy, Audie, 128 National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), 124, 157, 163, 170–72, 174, 176, 180, 186, 188–89 National Council of Negro Veterans, 173–74 National Emergency Committee Against Mob Violence, 179 National World War II Memorial, 2 Negulesco, Jean, 89 Nesbitt, George B., 169 Neufeld, Ben, 124, 152 Neville, Mike, 61, 71, 72, 76, 79 Nixon, Richard M., 80 Nobody Lives Forever, 89, 98, 102 Office of War Information (OWI), 14 Parnell, Emory, 108 Paterson, Chat, 146–47 Patrick, Dorothy, 89 Pegler, Westbrook, 137, 139 Powell, Dick, 91 Powers, Dave, 63, 64, 65, 67, 73, 74, 76, 80 Pressley, Claire, 177 Price, Vincent, 87, 104 Progressive Citizens of America, 141 PT-109, 54–56, 72–75, 77, 79, 81 Rankin, John, 143, 161 Ray, Nicholas, 93

Reagan, Ronald, 128, 130 “Reception Committee, The,” 18–20 Reinhardt, John, 90 Reuther, Walter, 141, 150 Reynolds, Grant, 168 Ride the Pink Horse, 88, 92, 95, 105, 106, 114 Ripley, Arthur, 87 Robinson, Edward G., 109, 110 Robinson, Jackie, 181–82 Rodgers, Will, Jr., 148 Rodney, John, 111 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 110 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, Jr., 110, 128, 129, 131, 141, 144, 146 Root, Oren, Jr., 128, 131, 132, 146, 149 Russell, Jane, 101 Russo, Joseph, 61, 64, 79 Ryan, Robert, 91 Saigon, 89, 92, 105 Schlesinger, Arthur, Jr., 141 Schrader, Paul, 84 Scott, Lizabeth, 97 Slattery’s Hurricane, 96 Smith, Art, 106 Smith, Ed, 161 Snipes, Maceo, 185 Somewhere in the Night, 87, 90–91, 101 Stephenson, James, 175 Stimson, Henry, 174 Stouffer, Samuel A., 21 Sutton, Bill, 63, 65, 72–73 Tailleur, Roger, 86 Taylor, Robert, 87, 89, 90 Thieves’ Highway, 88, 89, 92, 105 Timilty, Joe, 63 To Secure These Rights, 179 Trevor, Claire, 105 Truman, Harry S., 80, 129, 147, 179–80, 189 Tyler, Gus, 149–50 Undertow, 89, 98, 101 University Religious Conference, 119

INDEX

veterans: Vietnam War, 191–92; World War I, 13, 30, 125, 178, 192; World War II, and anger toward civilians, 27–30, 39–48, 76, 86–90, 119–21, 161–62; World War II, and heroism, 37–39, 47–51, 71–74, 82, 111, 115; World War II, and masculinity, 20–21, 24–26, 73–74, 78–79, 85–86, 96–106, 112; World War II, and materialism on the home front, 27–28, 43–45, 86, 88–89, 95; World War II, and political leadership, 53–54, 65–66, 67, 74, 77–78, 82, 119–23, 131–32, 135; World War II, and postwar role, 20–21, 26, 30–31, 41–51, 68, 74–75, 86–87, 94–95, 120, 139, 162–66 Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), 68, 117, 118, 127, 139, 152, 153

229

Violence, 108 Von Sternberg, Joseph, 89 Wallace, Henry A., 147–48 White, Walter, 166–67, 171, 174, 176, 179 Widmark, Richard, 96 Wilder, Billy, 85 Wilkins, Roy, 120 Williams, Bill, 91 Williams, Franklin, 130 Williams, Robert F., 187–89, 190 Women’s Army Corps (WAC), 24–26 Woodard, Isaac, 175, 179 Wyler, William, 89 Young, Robert, 88 Zinn, Howard, 152 Zinnemann, Fred, 91