Each Tall Street

It’s hard for young people these days to understand what it must be like for our nation to be at war as it was in the 1940’s when I was a child.  Seeing men in uniform and Uncle Sam’s picture pointing saying “I Want You” was quite normal.  Theaters had news clips of our soldiers and allies.  It pictured war scenes with tanks, ships, airplanes, and guns and everyone was glued to the screen in hopes of seeing someone they knew on screen or hearing news of some of their family.  It wasn’t pretty, but it was real and it was necessary, and we were a proud nation.  When our flag was shown, we applauded.  We stood and pledged allegiance to the flag and sang God Bless America.   Going to the theater was great entertainment and it only cost a dime!   I went every Saturday when I was older to see Gene Autry or Roy Rogers.  But that’s another story for another day.

Sometime about 1943, my Daddy was working at the shipyard in Savannah, GA. We lived in a “row house” on East Hall Street that was paved with cobblestone.  We lived upstairs in an apartment which had a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, which we shared with another tenant upstairs.  It was down a long hall from our bedroom.  The “row houses” were so close together you could raise the windows and almost reach across to the next door neighbor.  There was a narrow alley between.

Momma, being the over-cautious Momma that she was, made sure that she held onto my hand everywhere we went.  And we went everywhere.  The streetcar was the mode of transportation. It was a real treat to get on that streetcar and go shopping with Momma.  Now that lady was a shopper!  We would go from one end of Broughton Street to the other.  I can smell those boiled peanuts and fresh donuts now that the vendors made on the street.  Ummmm!  She drug me from shoe store to shoe store, trying on dozens of pairs of shoes.  We’d go to the Farmers Market which stunk like fish.  I’ll never forget that smell either.  Woolworths was always a great place to look at toys and spin around on the seats at the lunch counter.  I remember getting lost there, one time.  (That was why she held onto my hand after that.)  Then, when it was time to go home, she took me to Leopold’s Drug Store for lime sherbet.  Man, I was living!  Then, back on the streetcar we’d go and return before Daddy got home. 

I remember peeking out the windows early foggy summer mornings and looking down at the street when I’d hear the cloppety clop of the mules pulling the milk wagon which delivered milk and butter.  Soon there would be a large black woman pushing a wheelbarrow which was loaded down with vegetables.  She’d been calling out in her low, but sturdy voice, “green beans, butterbeans” just loud enough to be heard.  Neighbors would be scurrying out to her to get their fresh vegetables for their dinner.  It was an eerie sight in the fog.  Almost like a dream….

I decided my playmate next door needed a hair cut, so I found some scissors and gave her a nice new hair do.  Her Momma gave my Momma a piece of her mind.  So much for loving thy neighbors. 

Daddy bought me a pair of roller skates.  This was the kind of skates with a strap over the top and that you screwed to your shoe soles with a key.   It was impossible to skate on cobblestone, so Daddy and Momma would take me a couple of blocks down to the park where there was a covered gazebo and they would sit while I skated to my heart’s content.  Then we would walk hand in hand back home to our apartment.    

Sometimes on Sunday, we’d ride the street car as far as it goes  - Isle of Hope –  just the three of us spending the day together.    Some Sundays we’d go to the movies.  I told my Daddy I wish he was Gene Autry and he pretended to cry.  I’ll never forget how ashamed I felt after I did that.  I was five years old.  I loved my Daddy more than Gene Autry for sure.

I have a vivid memory of Momma sobbing in front of the fireplace with a letter in her hand.  I was worried and didn’t understand what was wrong.  I later learned that the letter was from the Dept. of Defense calling my Daddy into service.  He was deferred because of his employment at the shipyard.   He served his country with his skills as did many other men and women who were needed to provide the necessary equipment essential for war.

  

I wanted so badly to be able to walk by myself around the corner to the corner store where Momma would do some grocery shopping when she had some money or ration stamps to use.  She was afraid to let me out of her sight, however.  The story goes that somebody asked me if I were to get lost, would I be able to tell anyone my address.  I said “Of course, I live at 309 Each Tall Street”.  I knew exactly where I lived.   And I did.

Ah, sweet memories….