Few details about this photograph can be substantiated. The original caption was supposedly “Radio Pictures Chorus Girls“. This might have been a reference to RKO Radio Pictures Inc., which operated from 1929 to 1959.
The girls were almost certainly entertainers who were photographed while having fun exercising on a Hollywood rooftop — possibly in 1938. The automobiles in the background were likely built in the 1920s and 1930s, and the boxing scene was obviously posed for the photographer. (If you can identify the street address or know any of the girls in the image, I’d love to hear from you!)
RKO Studios at Melrose Avenue and Gower Street, Hollywood, circa 1937.
On this day in 1863, Abraham Lincoln was born into poverty. His birthplace was a log cabin on Sinking Spring Farm near Hodgenville, Kentucky. Raised on the frontier (mainly in Indiana) he was well-read and self-educated, and became a lawyer who opened a law practice in Springfield, Illinois.
I asked DALL-E to simulate what Lincoln might have looked like as a young man during this period of his life, using historical images as reference. Here are the results:
At the time this map was printed, Los Angeles County was booming with droves of new arrivals pouring in mostly from the East Coast. According to the U.S. Census, the county’s population had grown by 196% during the decade following 1900. By 1910, it had reached 504,131.
At the following census in 1920, the county’s population had swelled to 936,455, which translates to another 85.8% increase over 10 years . Within 20 years of 1900, the population had increased by 5 1/2 times, and 13 times by 1930, ending the decade with a total population of 2,208,492.
Most of the new settlers arrived by railroad. But when the above map was printed, the first automobile affordable to middle-class Americans, the Ford Model T was already in its 9th year of production. While there was a frenzy to build electric tram lines and a bus infrastructure connecting the Los Angeles area, people’s preferences, and the future of personal transportation, were clear. Then as now, people preferred private automobiles over communally shared vehicles the same way as they prefer private bathrooms over public toilets. For much the same reasons, they always will.
By the end of production in 1927, Ford had sold 14,689,525 Model Ts, with the least expensive model selling for just $260. (At the time of this writing, this would amount to an inflation-adjusted price of roughly $5,000 in 2025).
Motoring at the time would have been both fun as well as challenging. Many Los Angeles area roads at the time were still unpaved and rural. The various towns, settlements and cities were scattered about the vast county, and surrounded by farm or ranch land. Cars frequently broke down miles from populated areas. Flat tires were common. The quality of gasoline was unsteady and questionable, and filling stations were a novelty.
Melrose Avenue, 1910
Most gasoline pumps were installed in front of hardware stores, feed companies, livery stables, and a variety of other retailers. Service Town, the earliest known gas station in a modern sense, was built in 1914, three miles from downtown Los Angeles. Before that time, motorists went one place for gas and oil, and other places for lubrication and cleaning, for repairs, or for tires and other accessories.
As automobile sales increased, the demand for fuel led to a more systematic and standardized way of delivering it. In 1914, Standard Oil of California opened a chain of 34 homogeneous stations along the West Coast, and other oil companies quickly followed suit to secure an outlet for their now increasingly branded and advertised products.
The Gilmore Gas Station was one of the first gas stations in Los Angeles. It was located on the northeast corner of La Brea and Wilshire Boulevards. Photo from ca. 1920. (Los Angeles Department of Water and Power).
View showing Mabel Demspey standing on the gas pump island at the Whitsett Service Station located at 2912 Whitsett Avenue in North Hollywood. Photo from 1923.(Los Angeles Department of Water and Power).
A man and boy sit in a car at the Central Service Station which is selling both Violet Ray Gasoline and Associated Gasoline. Note the dog sitting on top of what appears to be an oil dispenser. Photo ca. 1928.(Los Angeles Department of Water and Power).
View of service station with gas pumps on either side located at 1800 1/2 Long Beach Boulevard, South Gate. The signs advertise General Gasoline, Richfield Gasoline, Gilmore Gasoline, Hood Tires, United States Tires and Pennzoil. On the right, an attendant is climbing a ladder. Photo ca. 1928. (Los Angeles Department of Water and Power).
Some of the cities on the road map shown above no longer exist, but were absorbed by Los Angeles or other cities. Examples (on the Westside) are the historic City of Sawtelle and the town of Venice, which were annexed by the City of Los Angeles, and the City of Ocean Park, which opted to join the City of Santa Monica
In 1910, the semi-rural town of Hollywood had voted to merge with Los Angeles in order to secure an adequate water supply and to gain access to the L.A. sewer system. This was very common development at the time, and one which many cities later bitterly regretted.
The community of Pacific Palisades, which was consumed by the horrendous fire of 2025, didn’t exist yet. Neither did the City of Malibu, nor the Roosevelt Highway (later renamed to “Pacific Coast Highway”). But there was a “Beach Road” along the coast, as well as a steam rail line from Downtown Los Angeles to Santa Monica. The latter was how most beach goers arrived to take a few days of respite from the summer heat further inland.
By 1912, some motion-picture companies had moved out West to set up production facilities near or in Los Angeles, one of the first one being short lived Nestor Studios. (Originally known as Nestor Motion Picture Company, then Nestor Film Company, it merged with the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, headed by Carl Laemmle, in 1912).
At the time, the pioneering movie studios were still a newfangled and rather suspect industry, viewed with skepticism by investors, polite society, and cultural guardians alike. They certainly weren’t the main reason why people from all over North America (and Europe) wanted to move to Los Angeles. More important factors were the discovery of vast oilfields and seemingly endless opportunities to make money and fortunes. There was affordable and available vacant land on which one could build quickly, cheaply, and year-round. And all this came with a pleasant climate, and a plentiful supply of fresh meat, fruit and vegetables throughout the year. (This would have been a major draw at a time when heating consisted of building a fire in an oven or fireplace, and electric refrigerators were a rare novelty).
But I would argue that of all industries, it was the motion picture industry which drove America’s rapid motorization in the first part of the 20th Century. Cinemas would soon reach every corner of the country. And there, on big silver screens, huge crowds of people saw all segments of society happily motoring around Southern California. Often in open cars no less, far from snow and ice, and enjoying the joys of personal, individual transportation. To audiences back then, all this looked like magic. And of course, the car industry back east could not have invented a better publicity campaign.
On the left in this rare image of Sunset Boulevard just west of Crescent Heights, taken during the early 1930s, we see the entrance to the Garden of Allah at 8152 Sunset Boulevard. On the right is the Chateau Marmont, which still stands. A house behind the trees in the center would eventually become the Preston Sturges’ Players Club, then the Imperial Gardens, Miyagi’s, and the Roxbury.
About three decades preceding this photograph, the hills to the north were still lined with orange groves. What became Sunset Boulevard was just a dirt road. By 1905, real estate mogul William Hamilton Hay (1865-1946) began dividing and developing 160-acres of land bounded by today’s Sunset Boulevard to the north, Santa Monica Boulevard to the south, Crescent Avenue (today’s Fairfax Avenue) to the east and Sweetzer Avenue, in what is now the City of West Hollywood.
At the originally assigned street address of 8080 Sunset Boulevard, the “Hayvenhurst Estate” occupied a 2.5 acres site fronting Sunset. It was bounded by Crescent Heights Boulevard on the east, and Hayvenhurst Drive (today spelled Havenhurst) on the west. The property’s southern edge formed the city limits between the Hollywood district of the City of Los Angeles, and what later became the incorporated City of West Hollywood. Eventually, the property’s address was changed to 8152 Sunset Boulevard.
The estate had twelve rooms and four bathrooms. The interior finishes were fashioned from Circassian walnut wood which Mr. Hay and his wife Katherine had collected on a trip to the Philippines in 1912. (It is said that the couple personally managed the project). The interior walls were covered in hand-painted canvas and hand-painted. Perhaps unusual for the time, the property included a two-car garage (with upstairs rooms servants).
Completed in 1918, the property stood vacant for several years, as Mr. and Mrs. Hays had moved on to other building projects.
Around that time, the property was recommended to silent film actress Alla Nazimova, who first leased and then bought the estate from the Hays.
Alla Nazimova and Charles Bryant (actor) in a photo dated Dec. 6, 1912. George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress.
Facing bankruptcy, Ms. Nazimova apparently found investors, and had the property converted to a hotel by commissioning 25 villas on the site. In 1927, this became known as “the Garden of Alla”.
Main house interior, date unknown
Not skilled in running a hotel, Ms. Nazimova was forced to sell the money-losing property to a holding corporation, which renamed it to “Garden of Allah”. It was, in its heyday, a bohemian hangout for young creative types flocking to Hollywood’s film industry from all corners of the world. Given the list of guests (see below) and the many stories of rambunctious parties, dubious events and salacious happenings, it was quite the place to be.
Date unknown
1932
1934
A striking photo of Henry Wilcoxon at the Garden of Allah, 1934. Known as an actor in many of director Cecil B. DeMille’s films, he later served as DeMille’s associate producer.
When Alla Nazimova returned to California in 1938 after a stay on Broadway, she rented Villa 24 at the hotel, and continued to live there until her death in 1945.
Library of Congress Catalog: https://lccn.loc.gov/2014712156. Image: https://cdn.loc.gov/master/pnp/ggbain/32000/32003u.tif
TheGarden of Allah pool in 1959
Sadly, after losing its luster and falling into disrepair, the Garden of Allah was torn down in August of 1959, to be replaced with the Lytton Savings & Loan main branch. A pristine example of Googie architecture, the bank building was designated a historic cultural landmark in 2016. Nevertheless, it was condemned to demolition by a subsequent ruling, in order to make way for one of the ugly, disjointed monstrosities Frank Gehry’s architectural firm is known for.
Today, nothing remains of the Garden of Allah, except a place in history, the myth, and an imaginary landmark as one of the central locations in the Golden Era of Hollywood.
Hotel Guests
Various sources have linked the following names to stays at the Garden of Allah:
Lauren Bacall, Tallulah Bankhead, John Barrymore, Donn Beach, Lucius Beebe, Robert Benchley, Humphrey Bogart, Clara Bow, Louis Bromfield, Louise Brooks, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Charles Butterworth, Louis Calhern, John Carradine, Virginia Cherrill, Mickey Cohen, Buster Collier, Ronald Colman, Marc Connelly, Gary Cooper, Joan Crawford, Jean Dalrymple, Lili Damita, Vic Damone, Florence Desmond, Marlene Dietrich, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Errol Flynn, Greta Garbo, Ava Gardner, Dorothy Gish, Jackie Gleason, Jimmy Gleason, Elinor Glyn, Benny Goodman, Frances Goodrich, Ruth Gordon, Sheilah Graham, D.W. Griffith, Albert Hackett, Jon Hall, Jed Harris, Jascha Heifetz, Lillian Hellman, Ernest Hemingway, Woody Herman, Madeline Hurlock, Garson Kanin, George S. Kaufman, Buster Keaton, Muriel King, Eartha Kitt, Alexander Korda, Elsa Lanchester, Charles Laughton, Frank Lawton, Lila Lee, John Loder, Anita Louise, Bessie Love, Ernst Lubitsch, Charles MacArthur, Frances Marion, Harpo Marx, Zeppo Marx, Groucho Marx, Sam Marx, Glesca Marshall, Somerset Maugham, Patty McCormack, Ward Morehouse, Nita Naldi, Ramon Novarro, Alla Nazimova, David Niven, John O’Hara, Maureen O’Hara, Walter O’Keefe, Maureen O’Sullivan, Clifford Odets, Laurence Olivier, Dorothy Parker, Johnny Roselli, S.J. Perelman, Roland Petit, Tyrone Power, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Ronald Reagan, Flora Robson, Ginger Rogers, Harry Ruby, Natalie Schafer, Leon Shamroy, Artie Shaw, Mildred Shay, Arthur Sheekman, Robert E. Sherwood, Frank Sinatra, Red Skelton, Everett Sloane, Barbara Stanwyck, John Steinbeck, Donald Ogden Stewart, Leopold Stokowski, Igor Stravinsky, Gloria Stuart, Margaret Sullavan, Kay Thompson, Whitney Tower, Forrest Tucker, H.B. Warner, Orson Welles, Dame May Whitty, Herbert Wilcox, Hugh Williams, Hope Williams, John Hay “Jock” Whitney, Alexander Woollcott, Vincent Youmans.
Born on February 4, 1902, Charles Augustus Lindbergh would be 122 years old today. Although mostly remembered as an aviator and U.S. military officer, he had a wide range of interests besides aviation – among them politics and international relations.
A prominent member and spokesman of the America First Committee, Lindbergh was strongly opposed to President Franklin Roosevelt’s foreign policy.
(Photo: Charles Lindbergh as a 25-year old, in 1927 – the year of his historical flight from New York to Paris).
Like many of his contemporaries, Lindbergh believed that Soviet communism was by far the greatest threat to America, and thus advocated a neutral stance toward the NSDAP’s rise in Germany.
This was indeed a very popular opinion among the American public at the time, and easily the majority. The way America had been drawn into World War 1 just a little more than two decades earlier played a major role in this.
Lindbergh later wrote:
“I was deeply concerned that the potentially gigantic power of America, guided by uninformed and impractical idealism, might crusade into Europe to destroy Hitler without realizing that Hitler’s destruction would lay Europe open to the rape, loot and barbarism of Soviet Russia’s forces, causing possibly the fatal wounding of Western civilization.“
Lindbergh died on August 26, 1974. During his life, he had witnessed both world wars (fighting for the U.S. in WW-2, albeit unofficially), the enormous rise of commercial aviation, the first nuclear weapons and the beginning of the nuclear age, the electronics revolution, the Cold War and the split of Europe into a free market Western part and a communist Eastern part, the Cold War’s proxy wars in Korea and Vietnam, the Cuban missile crisis, the culture wars of the 1960s, and the space race culminating in the first manned moon landings.
Almost 50 years have passed since Lindbergh’s death. Today’s world includes the Russian invasion of Ukraine, North Korean saber rattling against South Korea, the People’s Republic of China openly talking about (and practicing) the invasion of Taiwan, Iran’s nuclear ambitions, and the aftermath of the attack on Israeli civilians originating from the Gaza Strip — all of which could easily compound and escalate into a global conflict with the potential for nuclear weapons being used.
I often wonder how, if he was alive today, Charles Lindbergh would judge the contemporary geopolitical situation, and the state of America and Western Civilization, in 2024.
The term “Molotov cocktail” came from the Russian invasion of Finland in 1939. Finnish soldiers and civilians resisted the numerically far bigger, communist Red Army with home made fire grenades named after Soviet foreign minister Vyacheslav Molotov, Molotovin koktaili.
The term’s origin was a response to Russian propaganda. Molotov was claiming on Soviet state radio that bombing missions over Finland were actually airborne humanitarian food deliveries for their starving neighbors. This was, of course, a blatant lie.
Vyacheslav Molotov, 1945
The outraged Finnish population sarcastically dubbed the Soviet cluster bombs “Molotov bread baskets” in reference to Molotov’s propaganda broadcasts. And when they began using hand-held bottle firebombs to destroy Soviet tanks, they called them “a drink to go with his food parcels”.
When skillfully thrown against vulnerable points on vehicles (such as trucks, armored personnel carriers or tanks), the little fire grenades were surprisingly successful at the time. So successful indeed that the Finns commissioned the distillery company Oy Alkoholiliike Ab to manufacture Molotov cocktails industrially. It is said that the company made 450,000 of them.
A Finnish soldier with a Molotov cocktail in the 1939–1940 Winter War
Finland’s fierce resistance and the fighting spirit of its population succeeded in preserving the country’s independence. But it came at a cost of at least 70,000 Finnish lives and large territories, which were ceded to the Soviet Union during the peace negotiations.
Since then, the Molotov cocktail has been a weapon of choice in many conflicts involving civilians against an overwhelming force. For instance, during the Hungarian uprising against Soviet control in 1956, Molotov cocktails thrown by Hungarian street fighters destroyed as many as 400 tanks before the Soviet military crushed the rebellion. Similar fighting occurred in 1968, during the Prague Spring in Czechoslovakia.
Czechoslovaks carry their national flag past a burning Soviet tank in Prague, 1968.
In essence, a Molotov cocktail is a primitive incendiary weapon. It consists of a breakable glass bottle filled with a flammable liquid. A fuse of some sort is attached to the outside and lit before throwing the bottle, which shatters upon impact and spreads the flammable liquid. Various kinds of liquids, fuses and added chemicals have been used, and there are some versions that produce the ignition by a chemical reaction rather than by manually lighting a fuse.
How effective these devices still are against modern military vehicles is highly questionable. Over time, military vehicles have been hardened against this sort of attack. Vulnerable points (such as tires, the cogs on which tank tracks run, air intakes and radiators) have been improved, and there are often fire suppression systems on board. And an effective counter tactic is for convoys to move very rapidly. At the same time, the delivery of a Molotov cocktail (usually by direct throwing from very close range, or by dropping from buildings, bridges or other structures) subjects the combatant to great risk. As in any form of combat, the risk-benefit assessment is very tricky and comes down to probabilities.
Usually, Galileo di Vincenzo Bonaiuti de’ Galilei [1564 to 1642] gets the credit for discovering the largest four moons of Jupiter – a most controversial scientific sensation at the time.
But not so fast! As usual, the truth is a little more nuanced.
Today happens to be the birthday of the German astronomer Simon Mayr [1573 to 1624 or 1625], better known under his Latin name, Simon Marius. In Mundus lovialis, his book from 1614, Marius describes Jupiter and claims that he discovered four moons in 1611. According to his claims, he would have made his discovery about a month earlier than Galileo Galilei.
Of course, Galileo was a famous celebrity and well known among Europe’s intellectuals and clergy. He appears to have been unimpressed by Marius and swiftly accused him of plagiarism, causing Marius’ reputation to suffer greatly.
It took 289 years to exonerate Marius. In 1903, a scientific jury in the Netherlands examined the evidence extensively. Its findings, published in 1907 were: Marius discovered the moons independently, but he did not start keeping notes until 29 December, 29, 1609 on the Julian calendar. This date corresponds to January 8, 1610 on the Gregorian calendar used by Galileo and falls on the day after the famous letter in which Galileo first described the moons. Moreover, Marius’ description of the moons’ orbits is superior to Gelileo’s.
So who was really first? We’ll never know for sure, simply because there is no record of the date on which Marius made his initial observation. We only know when he recorded it, and when Galileo recorded his own observation.
It may seem ironic that the names under which the “Galilean” moons are known today are those given to them by Marius: Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. (Galileo had named them after one of Europes most powerful and wealthiest families at the time, “the Medici Stars”).
So what can we learn from this story?
Keep good notes.
Know what calendar to use.
It helps to be famous.
Engraving in Mundus Iovialis anno MDCIX Detectus Ope Perspicilli Belgici, 1614. Image: Houghton Library, Harvard University
Today is the 30th anniversary of an event that I once thought would never, ever happen: the unification of the two postwar Germanies: West Germany (Bundesrepublik Deutschland, or BRD) and East Germany (Deutsche Demokratische Republik, or DDR). What surprised me even more was that the East German government allowed itself to be dissolved peacefully, and that the whole transition, although certainly fraught with many problems, was successfully carried out with little violence.
To this day, I continue to be surprised by aspects I had not considered realistic. For example, I recently learned that there are some fascinating legal questions and unsettled arguments about the legal status and nature of the German nation-state.
The whole subject is highly contentious and complicated. At its roots are the complex problems with defining what “Germany” is supposed to be, and specifically, what the “German Reich” is. Students of history understand that this has been one of Europe’s fundamental problems for many centuries, and a reoccurring cause of wars between the European powers. This, and World War II, have made the whole issue a taboo subject in today’s Germany.
Complicating things is that historically, several imperial lines, such as the Habsburgs, have laid claim to the title of “German Emperor”, and all sought different solutions to the fragmentation of the German people across Europe. The circumstances leading to the collapse of the German monarchies after World War II, the establishment of the short-lived Weimar Republic, followed by its economic demise, and the subsequent rise of the “Third Reich”, are well documented.
What is less well known and discussed is what happened to Germany, or to the concept of the German Reich, after World War II.
After the war, the governments of each East and West Germany considered themselves the legitimate German governments of the legitimate successor states of the German Reich. This is not trivial, because being defined as “successor state” carries important consequences in international law.
But this is already where the agreements come to an end.
There are experts in international law, and circles, who call into question whether especially West Germany was, or is truly a successor state at all. These arguments are based on two different, competing lines of reasoning. One is that when the Third Reich was defeated, the whole German Reich, as a construct, became extinct. Consequently it cannot have a successor. The other line of reasoning asserts the opposite. It claims that since the German Reich was never formally dissolved, it still exists. However, the argument goes, West Germany could not be be a legitimate successor, because it was just an occupied territory, with a constitutional structure, a legal framework, and a government imposed by foreign governments, namely Britain, the U.S.A. and France. Even the borders of this brand new nation state were drawn by foreign powers. Furthermore, the people living in the western occupied zone were never consulted about the form of state that would govern them, it being a union of states governed by a federal republic. What is more, the people living in these territories didn’t consent, but were compelled to become citizens of this so-constructed nation state.
According to this line of reasoning, East Germany would have a more legitimate claim to be a successor state, and of being “the real Germany”. This theory was certainly maintained by the DDR’s government and used in Soviet propaganda, according to which the USSR was the only power that had first defeated, and then mercifully “liberated” Germany. Reorganized under socialist rules, of course, and arguably also without properly consulting the people living in the eastern occupied zone – at least after the border was sealed. At which point people who didn’t consent to become citizens of the socialist DDR had no alternatives, and thus were also compelled to become subjects of the socialist state, whether they wanted to or not.
The unification of the two Germanies 30 years ago has complicated matters even more. The treaty clearly specifies that the DDR ceased to exist. But then, according to one of the theories above, wouldn’t this mean that any legitimate successor state status would be extinguished?
There is also the argument that neither one of the two Germanies were legitimate successors of the German Reich. So is it in fact extinct? No so, some argue, pointing to interpretations of international law which seem to establish that a nation-state’s defeat in war does not obliterate the right of its people, which continues to have the right to exist and collectively choose whatever form of government it wants.
Today there are groups in modern day Germany which reject the unified federal republic’s claim of being the “the one and only real Germany”, unified or not. Some hardliners even claim that they therefore have the right to “opt out” and not be subject to laws of a nation they never consented to be citizens of. As a consequence, some of these groups refuse to pay taxes and fines, create what they claim to be institutions of the “German Reich” and issue their own, so-called “official documents” – none of which is recognized by the German Republic, any of its member states, the European Union, or the United Nations.
While these are certainly fringe groups who routinely (and not surprisingly) get slapped down by the courts of the new Germany, it appears that they might carry the age old “German question” into the 21st Century:
Peggy S. Harris and 1st Lt. Billie D. Harris were married for just six weeks before Harris deployed in World War II. His wife never saw him again. His plane was shot down and crashed into the woods near a small town in Normandy. It took Peggy 60 years to find his grave.
For many of us, the coronavirus shutdowns mean being separated from loved ones, and most of us are longing for a return to the social activities we once enjoyed.
But our inconveniences and hardships pale by comparison to the ordeals faced by those whose relationships were torn apart by war. Since 1775, the U.S. has lost 1.36 million of its people to warfare. And while the vast majority were young men, most of them left behind family, a lover, a fiancé, or a wife and children.
Here are a few snippets of wartime correspondence bearing testimony of the sacrifices made.
At the age of 23, Frank M. Elliott left Georgetown University to join the U.S. Army in 1943. From England, he writes to his wife:
May 6, 1944
Dearest Darling,
All day I have been fighting the feeling which has been dominating me of late. I keep continually thinking of home and longing for home in the worst way. All your letters of how beautiful my daughter is becoming by the day. The realization that I am missing all these months and years of her formative growth is actually gnawing at my heart. ...
I love you, Frank
Pauline “Polly” Elliott, 24, answers from the couple’s home in New Castle, Pennsylvania. They had a little daughter, DeRonda “Dee”.
May 28, 1944
Darling—
Here it is Sunday again — Sunday night. I think this is the most lonely time of the whole week for me. I am so darn lonesome for you, Frank darling. Oh I’m not the only one and I know it — there are millions just like me, wishing with all the strength of their hearts and minds for the return of peace and loved ones. — Dee is sleeping on this Sunday night, and the radio is playing old and beautiful music — and I am thinking of the Sunday nights to come when you will be listening to such music with me. — Took Dad to a ball game today — Dee went along — maybe she’ll learn to like baseball as well as her Daddy does — I’ll bet that she will.
I adore you, Polly
A week later, she writes to him:
June 5, 1944
Darling,
. . This is a beautiful summer evening, darling. I am sitting at the kitchen table (and not even noticing the noise of the refrigerator) from which place by merely lifting my head and looking out the window I can gaze upon a truly silvery, full moon. It’s beautiful, dear — really beautiful, and it has succeeded in making me very sentimental. I had begun to think that I was becoming immune to the moon’s enchantment — so often I have looked at it without you and to keep myself from going mad told myself “It’s pretty, yes — but, so what?”. . . That’s not the way it really is though, darling — the sight of that shining moon up there — the moon that shines on you, too — fills me with romance — ; and even though it’s just a dream now, it’s a promise of a glorious future with one I love more than life. The darned old moon keeps shining for us, darling — and even as it now increases that inescapable loneliness, it also increases my confidence in the future. I truly love you . . .
Frank M. Elliott was killed the next day, June 6, 1944 (D-Day).
Here’s a letter written by a girl from Boston:
A letter from Barth, Germany, dated May 10, 1945:
Sweetheart,
At last I can write you and say just what I please. I don’t know whether this will reach you before I get home, but it’s worth taking the chance. You cannot realize the joy I have experienced at being liberated, and the prospects of being with you soon. The Germans pulled out of here on April 30th, and we took over. The Russians arrived on May 2. Since then we have been impatiently waiting to get out of here…
…It has been a long time and you have not been out of my thoughts for one minute. I’ll close now, sweetheart, hoping and praying that we will be together very soon for all time. I love you with all my heart.
Your loving husband,
Arnold
Lieutenant Arnold L. Gray and Hazel J. Gray were reunited and lived a happy life after the war.
Here’s an excerpt from a letter written by 23-year-old Lt. Richard G. Fowler, a U.S. Army Air Forces navigator from Minnesota, to his wife Cornelia.
May 25, 1944
My darling Cornie —
This is my first letter to you in almost five weeks! And I’m writing it not knowing when I’ll be able to mail it, since believe it or not, I’m behind enemy lines.
Fowler’s B-24 bomber had been shot down over the Balkans. 8 crewmen where killed, but Fowler and another man were able to bail out on parachutes.
When I was certain the chute was open, I looked up and saw the white silk billowing and swaying in the wind. It was very quiet and you have no sensation of falling until you near the ground—just floating in space. My face and right hand had been burned quite badly and hurt like the very devil. A thousand thoughts ran through my head as I was falling. It took about ten minutes before I hit the ground so I did have time to think. First of all I wondered what you would think not hearing from me for a long time—I was quite certain I would be captured by the Germans and taken to a prison camp in Germany.
Lt. Fowler survived the war and was eventually reunited with his wife. Many other families were not so lucky:
This Memorial Day, let’s also consider those whose hopes for love and happiness were crushed and destroyed when war took the love of their life, never to return, leaving behind a void never to be filled.
