December 7, 1941.
” Yesterday, December seventh, 1941-A date which will live in Imfamy”
(President Franklin D. Roosevelt ) 12/8/1941.
Dad, Mom and I were in the living room on a cold Sunday afternoon , trying to listen to a program on the old Philco radio, well Dad & Mom were, it was news time and I wasn’t interested, and not happy because I couldn’t listen to my special Sunday afternoon program.
The telephone rang, our new telephone installed this past summer. Mom answered it because the only one that might call was her Mom.
Bill-it’s for you, Mom came back into the living room with a shrug and stating, ” it’s some man for Dad”. We could overhear Dad talking on the telephone , Dads voice carried into the living room, and we heard “yes” pause, “Oh my God, no I haven’t heard”, “when?” , Pause, “yes sir, the earliest will be seven, yes sir I’ll be there. ” “Yes Earnest, yes sir” Click Click.
Well Mom and I were dumbfounded at that point.
Dad came into the room looking quite concerned, ” The Japanese just bombed Pearl Harbor” He then went to the radio and tried to get a news station. The power tube was not cooperating, as usual
Mom & I were quite, just waiting for Dads story.
” Damn-it” I knew those bastards were up to something” and he pounded on the radio–and wow , the volume came up !
There was no news until 5 o-clock, and not much detail of the event.
I was scared out of my mind, Pearl Harbor ? Where was that?
I would be seven in three days, a naive country pumpkin that had not been further from home than a 30 mile trip to Boston or the Cape Cod Canal.
I knew the harbors near home, Plymouth,Duxbury, Green Harbor, Scituate & Cohasset Harbors and Boston Harbor, where was Pearl Harbor? Dad showed me on the globe we had, it was half way on the other side — well that didn’t take away any of my scared feelings.
Dad went to work early as requested by his boss Mr. Earnest Hofftizer. Earnest was in charge of the Boston Record American Newspaper. Dad was not a reporter or writer, but I’m sure needed to help with the extra work load created by this travesty ! At 4 o-clock Dad called and told Mom he would be late coming home.
Late to me meant no newspapers, no funny’s, at least until he got home, and no new power tube for the radio ! And my bedtime was 9 pm.
Dad got home at 9pm with all the papers, all the funny’s and full of photos of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, It deeply frightened me.
Mom let me stay up to run through all my favorite funny’s.
As the days, weeks and months moved along, not much was noticeably different, however, we were warned of shortages, gas, fuel, food, with more to follow.
By the end of December much more was rationed, my mom had all her ration cards stacked together with a rubber band holding them.
May 1942 gas & rubber was rationed, an “A” sticker gave you four gallons a week. Dad drove ten miles per day five days a week and might have had fumes left in his tank. He had two riders that paid one dollar per week and a trade of gas ration stamps. Later his gas ration was increased because he was a ranking newspaper employee. Newspapers were the most important means of getting the news.
Next rationing, sugar, butter, meat, and many more items.
Birthday’s and Christmas were pretty skinny in 1942, 3 & 4, it let up after the war ended in ’45.
For me, those four years , the thought of an invasion was always on my mind. Watching the convoys traveling past my house headed to Fourth Cliff, a heavy gun outpost.
On occasion they would fire the big gun as a practice, this was usually done while I was at school, the North School in Marshfield Hills, where the shooting could be clearly heard . One never knew whether they were firing at hostile submarines off shore or practicing . Sometimes a tear would run down my face in fear!
At times during the war, a report of a submarine would be sighted off our coast, that sure didn’t help with my fear of the Germans or the Japanese.
It was a. time of uncertainty , no one knew what was going to happen.
The neighborhood seemed to be normal and carrying out their daily routine . As spring & summer arrived , the weekend traffic on Summer St. was now non-existant, no gas, no travel. It was quite everywhere- spooky quite.
There is so much more I remember , I will have to do a part two.
W. Ray Freden. Sea View, Marshfield. 70 years, Now, “Down East Maine”. The Way Life Should Be.
SEA VIEW’S SCHOOL HOUSE
I have recently received a three-page typed letter on some history of the Sea View School house.
This is in regard to the beginning of the Trinity Mission, noted by Mrs. Charles Randall of Summer St., Sea View, a member of the Episcopal Church, along with six other families.
The following are excerpts from the letters.
When it was time for the Randall’s to have their youngest son baptized, they called on the Reverend Howard Barton from Cohasset to perform the service in their home.
Episcopal Church services were held in each others family’s homes…usually on Sunday afternoons.
One member, Dr. Henry Nelson of Highland St., arranged to rent the former Sea View school to hold services. In Aug. 1922, the School house and land was purchased from the Town of Marshfield by the newly-formed Guild.
The Trinity Chapel, originally the Sea View School, corner of Summer St. & Seaview Ave.
A number of different clergymen were invited to preach at the Chapel. In 1923 it was voted by the members to establish a Sunday School for the area children. A group of the ladies volunteered to teach on Sunday mornings.
After many years passed, the members deliberated over a new Church building (no reason given).
In July, a real Southern Barbecue was held at the farm of Dr. Edwin Dwight of Holly Hill. This event attracted people from all parts of the State and netted over $1000 towards the building fund.
Dr. Dwight offered land for the new building at the junction of Summer, Church, and Elm St.
Another offer was received by Luther Little to donate land on Summer St. opposite his residence.
However, the members decided to add on to the existing building….therefore not accepting either of the land offers.
On Sept. 25th, 1927, a dedication was performed for the new Chancel and kitchen. Donations were received from the members, and many of them were “in memory of loved ones”.
Different members of the clergy preached at this little Chapel with the names noted.
Twenty-five years passed (now 1941) when a Holy Communion was held celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary of the mission….30 members attended.
On Nov. 1, 1945, the care of the mission was transferred from Mr. Philbrick to Archdeacon Johnson.
The building was moved from Summer St., Sea View, to 228 Highland St. in 1948. This was the property of the Trinity Episcopal Church and the building was used as a parish house, dedicated to Archdeacon Johnson.
**Compliments of the late Mrs. Charles ( Mary) Randall, and son, Philip, the late Mr. & Mrs. Earl Banner, and daughter, Polly Banner.
A special thanks to Richard and Holly Dubois of Seaview.
A note of my experience at the Chapel:
I’m not sure what age I began Sunday School at this Chapel….maybe from age 6, 1940, but I went to Church, earlier with my Mom.
I remember when Archdeacon Johnson arrived with his wife.
I think it was the Christmas of 1945 and I was selected to play the part of Jesus in the pageant. I remember the Chancel was decorated with the manger. I was in the side room putting a robe on and a beard pasted on. I was being instructed by Mrs. Johnson…. she was quite pushy and full of instructions! She literally pushed me onto the Chancel and snapped at me for not speaking loud enough at Saturday practice before the pageant. Well, I had enough of being pushed around! I ripped off my beard and threw off my robe, ran out the side door, got my bike and rode home. I arrived home, explaining in tears, that I didn’t like Mrs. Johnson and I’ll never go back to Sunday School!!
Oh, yes, there was a telephone call. Dad answered and there was much silence by my Dad listening. I could hear a loud voice coming from the telephone. My Dad simply replied, “Thank you, I’ll take care of it”. Oh, I thought I was going to really catch it!! He said a few words that I can’t remember and let me off. I never went back in spite of the threats from my Mother!
W. Ray Freden, Seaview/ Marshfield . 70 years.