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Cover -- Excavating Memory -- Title -- Copyright -- Dedication -- Contents -- List of Figures -- List of Maps -- Foreword -- Acknowledgments -- Engaging Memory: An Introduction -- Part I. Sites of Contestation: Memory Work in the Nation-State -- 1. Bureaucratizing the Glorious Past: Moscow's Victory Memorial Project during Late Socialism -- 2. Sites of Memory of the 1980 Military Coup in Turkey -- 3. Remembering Right, Remembering White: Public Art, Colonial Memory, and Gentrification in Toronto's Parkdale Neighborhood -- 4. Power Line: Memory and the March on Blair Mountain -- Part II. Unremembered Heritage: Memories and Silences -- 5. Marginalized Narratives: Memory Work at African Shrines in Kochi, India -- 6. Land of Amnesia: Power, Predation, and Heritage in Central Africa -- 7. Imprisonment Is a Permanent Scar: Women's Penitentiaries in Francoist Spain -- 8. Pioneer Mothers for the New Millennium -- Part III. Storied Landscapes: Memory as Embodied Practice -- 9. Material Memories: (Re)Collecting Clandestine Crossings of the U.S.-Mexico Borderlands -- 10. Hate Sits in Places: Folk Knowledge and the Power of Place in Rosewood, Florida -- 11. Persistent Practice and Racial Politics: Maple Sugaring on the Dennis Farm -- 12. The Memory Market: Black Women's Stories and the Legacy of the South African TRC -- Part IV. Violence and Conflict: Excavating Painful Memories -- 13. Representations of Forced Labor in the Irish Magdalen Laundries: Contemporary Visual Art as Site of Memory -- 14. Memory, Identity, and a Painful Past: Contesting the Former Dachau Concentration Camp -- 15. Excavating a Hidden Past: The Forensic Turn in Spain's Collective Memory -- 16. The Armenian Genocide: Forensic Intervention, Narrative, and the Historical Record.

Transcript of an oral history interview with W. Russell Todd conducted by Joseph Cates at the Sullivan Museum and History Center on May 16 and May 19, 2016, as part of the Norwich Voices oral history project. W. Russell Todd graduated from Norwich University in 1950 and was president of the university from 1982 to 1992. In his interview, he discusses his thirty-two years of active duty in the U.S. Army as well as his experiences at Norwich University. ; 1 W. Russell Todd, NU '50, Oral History Interview Interviewed on May 16, 2016 and May 19, 2016 At Sullivan Museum and History Center Interviewed by Joseph Cates JOSEPH CATES: This is Joseph Cates. Today is May 16th, 2016. I'm interviewing General Russell Todd. This interview is taking place at the Sullivan Museum and History Center. This interview is sponsored by the Sullivan Museum and History Center and is part of the Norwich Voices Oral History Project. OK, first tell me your full name. RUSSELL TODD: William Russell Todd. JC: When were you born? RT: I was born on the first day of May, 1928, in Seattle, Washington. JC: What Norwich class are you? RT: Class of 1950. My father was 26. My son was -- I'll think about that. JC: Well, we'll get back to that. Tell me about where you grew up and your childhood. RT: For the first year of my life we lived in Seattle, Washington. Dad had a job with a lumber company out there, getting experience to come back to work for his father, who ran a lumber company just outside Milton, Massachusetts. So I grew up for the first nine or ten years in Milton, Massachusetts, a very nice place, right on the edge of where Mattapan and Milton come together. There was a lot of traffic. Well, just for an example, during that period of time I came up with my dad to his fifteenth reunion, and the difference in traffic between where we lived and what we found up here was considerable. When I got back to school on Monday the teacher said, "Russell had a day off. He's now going to tell us what he saw." Well, nothing came to mind, and I stood and told them that I had seen something they had never seen, miles and miles and miles of dirt roads. Now I live on one. (laughs) JC: Was that the first time you were ever at Norwich? RT: Yeah. JC: What was your impression of it when you first saw it? RT: It was a very interesting period of time. It was just before World War II affected the United States, and many, many people were sending their sons to Norwich -- rather than perhaps better prepared schools -- because they could get a commission. They assumed that everyone was going to go to war, and the opportunity of getting an education and a commission together at the same time really appealed to a lot of people. Our football team got everybody we wanted of great quality. We won all the games in that time 2 frame. And we had some very, very fine people who came back in 1946, the year I entered the university, and they made a big impression on my life. JC: I'm sure. I assume the buildings were the same. There weren't any new buildings between the time that you went and -- RT: As a matter of fact it was 1941 I believe, and two buildings on the main parade ground were being dedicated. One wasn't quite finished, and the other was, and two new dormitories shows you an example of what I was saying, how it was a golden period in Norwich's history. But saying that, the opposite is true when the war ends. You remember that we had, what, 15 cadets come up here after the Civil War. They all got off the train, (laughs) yeah, we don't think much about that. It's happened each time there's been a war. The incentive, or the idea, or the concept of perhaps having to serve didn't appeal to a lot of people at the end of wars. JC: Right. You kind of have a boom before the war and a bust after the war. RT: Yeah. JC: What made you decide to come to Norwich? RT: I think probably that trip did, that and the fact my dad was always talking about it. He would make us on Saturday nights -- eating beans and franks -- to sing Norwich songs around the table. (laughs) JC: Do you remember any of those Norwich songs? RT: There's a good one. What is it? "Oh, My First Sergeant" "Oh, my first sergeant, he is the worst of them all. He gets us up in the morning before first call. It's fours right, fours left, and left foot into line. And then the dirty son of a buck, he gives us double time. Oh, it's home, boys, home. It's home we ought to be. Home, boys, home, in the land of liberty. And we'll all be back to Norwich when the sergeant calls the roll." JC: That's wonderful. (laughter) I've heard in some of the oral histories "On the Steps of Old Jackman," but I haven't heard that one before. (Todd laughs) So when you came here with your father, was that during homecoming? RT: Well, homecoming and graduation were the same period of time. It was fascinating to me. It was a cavalry school. They had all kinds of drills that we went to and watched, and prizes were awarded. People loading up the water-cooled submachine guns on horseback and racing around, then taking them down, and putting in ammunition blanks, and firing -- you know, first, second, and third prizes kind of thing. Oh, yeah, that impressed me. Then, of course, the parades were fun to see. But it took about three days to get through graduation and homecoming as a single entity. JC: When you came to Norwich what did you major in? 3 RT: That's an interesting story. As I said, Norwich was having trouble at that time recruiting people, and I got recruited by the president of the university. We met in Boston, and he asked me all the things I was interested in, and to him it looked like I should be an engineer, and he wanted me to take an exam that would carry that forward. Well, I took the exam, and I became an engineer, and about the first part of the second semester I discovered you really had to do the homework. I really didn't like that much, and I wasn't doing very well, so I changed my major to history and economics. I really found that fascinating. JC: Well, tell me about what it was like being a rook here. RT: Yeah, another interesting thing. I was sold on the rook system, and my dad had always talked about it. When he brought me up here, people would drop off their suitcases, and go right out onto the parade ground, and start being ordered around by the corporal. I thought that was great. I never seemed super. But I didn't have many followers on that. I was very anxious that my father leave, and get out of there, and go home, and I convinced him to do that. But after, oh, maybe a month the class, who had elected class officers by that time, called a class meeting, and we all got together -- I've forgotten where now. "We got to stop this. We got to tell these guys we're not going to put up with this nonsense. We've got to show our power." I stood up and said, "Gentlemen, this isn't what we want to do. We want to put up. We want to show him we can do it," and I got booed right off the stage. However, they eventually made me class secretary, so I didn't lose all my friends that day. (laughs) JC: Now let's talk about post-war Norwich, because you did say there's kind of a bust. There isn't as many people. RT: Yeah, I think we had 200 in our class, and there was no really classes of Bubbas. Norwich toward the end of the war, when they were really desperate to get money to pay salaries to the faculty, had a high-school level. I think it was two years, the high-school level, and many people went into that and came up here, and that toward the end made some income for the university. But what it did for us, as an incoming class of freshmen, we had our officers, lieutenants, who were younger than we were, but they'd been here two years. You know, that didn't sit over very well either. That was difficult. JC: And the cavalry was still here at that time. RT: It was, yeah, for the first two years of my term and tenure at Norwich, at that point. JC: What do you remember about the horse cavalry? RT: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Well, let's just put it this way. The first person I visited in Northfield when I came back as president was my old sergeant [Kenoyer?], who we hated. He was tough. But on the other hand, we really liked him, and I felt very, very sorry for him, and I really wanted to see him. His son had won entry into West Point, and 4 about two nights before he was to report in he and a bunch of his buddies were in an automobile accident. I think they were hit by a train and killed. Sergeant [Kenoyer?] was never the same after that. He continued to ride horses in the parades in Northfield and that kind of thing. But he was a character. His education was perhaps at the level he was working, taking care of the horses, and taking care of the riding. He was a good man, but, for example, I had a roommate named George Pappas who was scared to death of the horses, and some of the horses knew it. They knew when you were afraid. And old George would step into the stable area, ready to put on the harness, and that old horse would just back him into the wall and lean on him -- oh, you win. Then, of course, [Kenoyer?] would come by and say, "Kick him in the neb with your knee!" Well, no one was going to do that, trapped in there. So George, he decided that he would skip equitation classes, and instead he took 10 demerits for every single class that he was supposed to be at, and he spent his first semester walking around the parade ground on Saturdays carrying a rifle, doing tours. Many things can be said about George. That's a whole other story of absolute wonder. But it was difficult. We only went down once a week actually to use them, but there really wasn't a hell of lot you can learn in one-hour time once a week. But toward the end of the freshman year we were out trotting around in the neighborhoods, etc. I remember one time one of the captains in the Army ROTC program there, officers, Army officers, lead us on a parade, and we went out across the railroad tracks and up into the hills. And on the way back the horses got the idea they themselves would like to jog back to the stables, and we came charging down that hill totally out of control. Some of the horses and men went all the way to downtown before they came under it. I went through the football practice. (laughs) It wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. Now there were some people here, including a classmate by the name of Bob [Bacharat?] [00:13:18] who really was a polo player. He came from Switzerland. I think that's the reason he came to Norwich was to be able to play polo, and we played polo in that time frame with people like Miami who flew their horses up here. Now, I never saw the plane, but we were told all this and a few years earlier, before the war, that Norwich was playing the big colleges and winning. Toward the end of the first year we played something called broom polo, which they'd throw out a basketball on the floor, and then you'd have to hit it with a broom to get it to go to the goal. Those kinds of things were fun to watch. I remember one time George, my roommate, in skipping class went up into the stands, which are on the south end of the hall, but up above in a balcony, and he opened the window and got a snowball, several of them, and put them up there. When somebody would go by, the stove down on the floor -- there were four stoves in that place -- they'd get red hot, but they really didn't make a hell of a lot of difference when the temperature was 30 below or whatever it might have been outside. And the horses, when you'd take them from the stable to the riding hall, would fight you all the way; they didn't want to go out in that cold. But George, on one occasion, dropped snowballs on those red-hot stoves, and you can imagine, they hissed. As the horse went by, this great hiss came out, and the horse would throw the guy, or run for the far -- I went hell bent for election to the far wall. And when he stopped, I went right up onto his neck and was hanging on. Sergeant [Kenoyer?] came over and gave me hell, you know, "You didn't take control of that horse." (inaudible) [00:15:36] There are people lying down all 5 around, and the horses are running around. Well, there's a certain romance in having the horses, so long as you're sitting in the stands watching a polo game. (laughs) JC: Had you ever ridden a horse before? RT: No, never. JC: So you didn't have any experience with horses. RT: Neither did anybody else. Yeah, yeah. They were wonderful animals though, for the most part. JC: Now you said a lot of the people that were there before the war came back after the war to finish up. RT: Mm-hmm. A lot may be too much of an adjective to use, but Alumni Hall was essentially filled with non-married veterans, or veterans who hadn't brought their wives back. Civilian clothes and having nothing to do with the military. The rest of the dormitories were filled with 200 and whatever it was cadets, and the very few upperclassmen like the one I mentioned who came up through the high school route. We didn't have a lot to do with them, and they were very serious about their studies in the classrooms, very serious about their studies. The fraternization took place after the first of the year when we could go into a fraternity house, and I remember the older veterans -- older, 22 maybe -- who were in Theta Chi, where I was, were a remarkable bunch of people and very, very much appreciated. They didn't always come to dinner with us, but they were in the house and participated with it. They ranged all the way from a parachutist in Europe to a lieutenant colonel in the air force. So that's a big gap. But they were great guys who made fraternity life reasonable. JC: Well, tell me about Theta Chi. Why did you choose that one? RT: Oh, yeah, the same old story, the same reason I came here. My dad was a Theta Chi. Why, of course that's what I'd do. This is my father's fraternity, you know. JC: So what were the fraternities like? RT: They weren't too bad. When General Harmon eliminated them, I thought it was the right thing to do, because there weren't fraternities at other military colleges. And when they were started I really believe they were very useful. They were much more an eating club, and since there wasn't a mess in the university in the 1850s. If you look into some of the old records you'll see at graduation time they invited the alumni back to have dinner, and they had dances. They had inter-fraternity baseball and football, etc. We were trying at my time, in my fraternity, to replicate that. It wasn't perhaps as successful as it might have been. It was great fun to beat SigEp in baseball or something. But it was a different part of the university. I remember one time when I was a corporal, and one of the men in the rank under me, in the barracks, was in the fraternity. We get down to the fraternity, 6 and he would give me a hard time for giving him a hard time. It wasn't what I thought it should be, but it was a good time. I mean, don't misunderstand me. Well, it was a fraternity. (laughs) The girls came in by train, if they were away. Carol came up several times on a train to spring break, or a winter carnival, and that kind of thing. That was good sport to have a place where we could party. There was no drinking - baloney, there wasn't. (Coates laughs) I remember one time we were having lunch, and one of the seniors, one of the veterans that had come back, was the president of the house, and he said, "Our Theta Chi member on the faculty, old Professor Woodbury, is going to be our chaperone for the party. Does anybody know Professor Woodbury?" "I know Professor Woodbury. My father told me about him. I've met him once." He said, "Good. You and your date will sit in the living room with the Woodburys while we're down in the basement drinking." (laughter) It wasn't much fun that night. We had the bars hidden behind sliding doors, or doors that pulled down, and all this kind of stuff, so if we got word that there was someone from the faculty coming we could close it up and all sit down, smile, and look like there was no alcohol in the place. JC: Can you tell me a little bit about winter carnival and some of the dances that you all had? RT: They were good sport. Much of the fun though centered around the fraternity at that time. Yes, of course we went to the dance, etc., but before going to the dance we probably went to the fraternity, and certainly after the dance we went to the fraternity, and that was really good sport. In my senior year my roommate, Rollin S. Reiter, from Ohio decided that in his fraternity they were going to have a special Christmas party. Now, it didn't make an awful lot of sense, because it was right at exam time. We took exams right in that time frame, so he really had to work to get these guys. They were going to do it in tuxedoes, not in our uniforms, so that slowed it down a little, too. But one of the guys, Chubby Jordan, who has since passed away, he was a brigadier general in the Massachusetts National Guard later on, an ex-marine. He didn't want to go do it, so they convinced him that he had to do it, and they would get him a date. When he went to the fraternity house, he was introduced to the worst looking girl in the place, and he immediately started drinking beer and avoiding her and all this. It wasn't even the girl they were going to match him up with, and they just were teasing him something awful. When he got very sleepy they put him on the pool table, laid out flat like in a mortuary and put two lit candles, one at either end of him on the pool table. It was a sight for sore eyes. (laughs) JC: I bet it was. Now you were on the rook committee while you were there? RT: Yeah. In my sophomore year I was the head of the rook committee, elected by the class. During the summer period of time I had to get together with the printers and the university and go through this business. There were big posters that said "Beware, Rook, Beware," and then they listed all the things down. We'd get them printed up here by John Mazuzan down in the Northfield Press, and then we'd sell them to the rooks at $1 apiece. I don't know what we did with the money, in the class coffers I guess. Yeah. I remember that President Dodge, who had no military experience previous, but was a very, very well known scientist and had been the dean of one of the big Midwestern schools in that area, 7 he was brought in by some hefty people on the board of trustees. He didn't fit. He didn't understand us. He was a great academic and did some very fine things for the university. But he called me in one day, as head of the rook committee, and said, "When will this period end?" This was right after supper. I said to him, "Sir, it's very clear. It's right on the chart." He said, "I want it to end at Thanksgiving." I said, "Sir, I don't think you're talking to the right guy. You should really be talking to the commandant of cadets, your left-hand man." He said, "Well, I don't know if I can convince him," and I thought, oh, my God, what have we got here, you know. (laughter) He was a fine gentleman, but the minute it was possible for the alumni to discover that General Harmon might be available, in May of my senior year, Dodge was gone. The alumni just -- it wasn't working the way they wanted to see it work. JC: So Harmon was not president any of the time that you were here? RT: His inauguration was held at the same time as my graduation. It was one thing. He had been here for maybe a month, and I remember that we had a football banquet, and they invited General Harmon to come. And he stood up and told us all that he had been here as a cadet, and he had come back in 1935 as the commandant of cadets, and he loved and understood this university, and he was going to make it famous, you know, kind of, "Yeah!" Just the kind of story we needed. Then he told us a story that just curdled me. It was a dirty story. I'd never heard some guy stand up in a dinner and tell a dirty story. It sort of surprised me. He had that reputation. As a matter of fact, one time later in my career, when I was in the army, I was asked by my boss if I would go back to Hamilton, Massachusetts, where I had lived at one time and see Mrs. George Patton, and tell her that her son-in-law -- as a brigadier general -- was about to be sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky. He was married to one of Patton's daughters, and he is now a bachelor. I was to go with three sets of quarters' plans and say, "Which of these, General, would you choose, because we at Fort Knox can now get the house painted up and ready for you, and all this kind of stuff ahead of time?" Well, Mrs. Patton agreed. When the time actually came general orders was late in his itinerary and couldn't be there, so she said, "Why don't you and Carol just come to dinner, and we'll talk about this? I will pass your message to Johnny when he comes through next week, and your leave is over." So that was just fine. But we had a quiet period in that Mrs. Patton was at one end of a long table, and I was at the other end, and Carol was in the middle, and there was a little old maid with a bonnet on her head, and an apron moving around quietly around the room. Everything went silent, and I said, "I can handle this." I said to Mrs. Patton, "Mrs. Patton, do you happen to know General Harmon?" And she said, "Indeed, I do, Russell, and he's a very disgusting man." (laughter) Now as it turns out, she gave an award right after that, she gave an award at Norwich of a similar pistol of General Patton's famous (inaudible) [00:29:38] to the leading cadet. But she was clear. (laughter) JC: Yeah, I've heard stories about General Harmon. RT: He did a great job. He stayed too long, but he did a great job. 8 JC: Well, what clubs were you in when you were here at Norwich? RT: Yeah, I went out for football. I'd come from a little school in Wenham, Massachusetts, where we played six-man football, and if one guy was sick, it didn't look like we were going to play, you know, kind of thing. I went out for football in Beverly High School, and that was danger. I mean, I wasn't up to that. When we got to Norwich I said, "I'm going back out for football. This looks like --" They were mostly freshmen. There were some veterans that came back, and there were some very good veteran players who came back but weren't interested in playing football. They wanted to study and have a family life. So Norwich had a terrible football team during that period of time. About the second day of practice Joe Garrity, who'd been a friend of my dad's who I had known, put his arm on my shoulder as we walked back to the locker room and said, "I've got a job for you." And I thought to myself, I'm going to be quarterback for the freshman team. And he said, "You're my manager, how about that?" and I said, "Oh, OK." Later in life, when I became president, the alumni director here, Dave Whaley, took me out to visit various alumni clubs. In Chicago a fellow named Hale Lait, who played football and was co-captain in his senior year, started to walk up to us, and Dave says, "Mr. Lait, do you know General Todd?" Hale Lait says, "Shit, he used to wash my jock." (laughter) And it was true! We had a big laundry over there. JC: Were you in any other clubs while you were here? RT: Yeah, I'd have to think upon it. We had an international relations club that I became president of at some point of time under -- oh, come on, his name is skipping me. I'll come back to it. But we brought I people to speak on the issues, and then Norwich formed an alliance with the other colleges where we were all working together, and that was sort of fun working that out. Oh, incidentally, when I was manager for the freshman team I had to write all the letters to the other schools and make all the arrangements, all that kind of thing. It sort of surprised me that the university wasn't doing that; the athletic department wasn't doing that. JC: Did you have a favorite professor when you were here? RT: Yeah, and I just told you I couldn't remember his name. (laughter) Sidney Morse. JC: Oh, OK. RT: Old Sidney Morse was a terrible lecturer, but he was a genius, you know. He understood American history, and that was his forte, and he also was a wonderful human being and understood us. He really got me to dig in and start getting decent grades. He would lecture, but he would have side comments on this thing, and there we are taking notes left and right. I never wanted to miss a class under any circumstances. He invited some of us -- one of them being me -- over to dinner, and he was just a great sport. He was not a big man in stature, but a big man in intellect. JC: Was there a professor you particularly didn't like? 9 RT: Oh, there were some who I'd rather not name who I didn't appreciate or think that they were at the level they should be. JC: What was the favorite class you ever took here? RT: I guess it was history. That's what I worked at. Let me go back to what I didn't like. We lost -- somehow, I don't know how -- one of the economics professors, and President Dodge brought in somebody in mid-semester, and this guy had written many books and was well appreciated around the world, but he was terrible. He couldn't remember any names, he refused to take any attendance, so people didn't come. You could answer him back and forth. I was told, I can't vouch for this, I was told by the people that say they did it. They invited him out the night before his final exam to join them for dinner in Montpelier, and when the time came, they picked up the tip, and went down to the railroad station, and put him on a train going to Montreal. (laughter) I believe it was true. But he just wasn't accustomed to teaching at our level in that circumstance. He was someone that should have continued writing his books. He was essentially a sociologist, but that was a while. I got called in by the dean for skipping class, and the dean was a great guy at that time. I was a little embarrassed by it, but the class was mostly veterans in this particular -- in economics. You know, they had their way. They weren't required to come to class. If they didn't come to class it chalked up one of a series you could have freer, but cadets didn't have that, so I just played like I was a veteran to old Mumbles [McLeod?]. That's what they called him, Mumbles. When the dean called me in, I got right back on it. JC: Decided you'd rather go back to class. RT: Yeah. JC: Did you ever get in much trouble when you were here? RT: Not really. I came close a number of times. Well, let me go back and talk about Carol. Carol and I met one time when we were in about the ninth grade. She was in Beverly, Massachusetts, and we were living in Hamilton, Massachusetts, at the time, and the Congregation youth groups met at a third place, Essex, Massachusetts. There were lots of people of our ages. You know, these groups didn't know each other. And I spotted her. She was -- wow! Wow, yeah. But I never got to speak to her before we broke up and went back. A couple of years later in Beverly High School -- we'd moved to Wenham, and Wenham didn't have a high school, so I went to Beverly High School. Todd with a T and Wyeth with W happened to have lockers opposite each other on the wall, and I said, "My God, there's that girl." I went over and spoke to her, and she invited me to her birthday party, and that'll show it all started with us. But it came to a point in our sophomore year when I had changed from engineering into history and economics. I had to make up some subject material that I didn't get in the first part, and I went to the University of New Hampshire trying to make it up. I went down on the weekend to her house in Beverly, and I stayed with her aunt 10 who lived next door. She was on my team. But Carol when we were -- she said, "Let's stop this tennis game for a minute. I want to talk to you." We walked up to the net, and she said, "You know, I'm through with this relationship. You're never going to be serious about anything you do in your life; you're going to be a perennial sophomore. I want to do more with my life than you are going to do, and this isn't going to work out." OK, I'll show you. I came back and studied like hell for the last two years I was here and sort of caught up. But it was interesting, when I was invited back at graduation time to be the officer who commissions everybody, and at that time the university ordered a master's or a PhD, you know, honorary to the speaker. Loring Hart didn't tell me whether I was supposed to say anything or not, so I had in my pocket a little thing I would say. It went something like this. It is indeed an honor to be here. I represent my classmates in this ceremony, and I'm very proud of the way Norwich is moving. But I would like you to know that 25 years ago, this very day, I received a letter from the committee on academic degrees and standings that read to this effect: "Dear Cadet Todd, The committee has met and has agreed to allow you to graduate (laughs) based on the circumstances that were not your fault." (laughter) So, you know, that's the way life went for me. I dug in and did relatively well. But another interesting thing about that. I don't know about anybody else, but I had a picture in my mind of VMI, and the Citadel, and all these places as being superior to Norwich in their military training, etc. But when I got in the army I discovered that 50% of them were duds, and it just changed my life around and my feelings about my institution. Yeah, it was strange. JC: When you graduated from Norwich what was the first -- you went into the army. RT: Yeah. JC: Did you go straightaway into the army, or was there a period? RT: Well, some of us -- I think it was 12, maybe as many as 15 -- received an opportunity to go into the regular army, not into the reserve army. I was one of those. About half of my classmates who were given that ability to do that chose not to do it, so there were a number of us that went. Upon graduation we received our commission in the United States Army Reserve, and then two weeks later I was brought into the regular army with another commissioning thing, which happened to be by my father's Norwich roommate, Colonel [Rice?] in Boston. He was running something in Boston for the army at the time. That was sort of fun. Then I went immediately off. We graduated about 15 or 17 May or something, June rather. On the second day of July, I reported in to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment Light at Fort Meade, Maryland, as one of these people you had a regular army commission. So there wasn't any time -- there was time enough in between that the family all went down to Cape Cod for a two-week vacation, but I graduated and went into the army. JC: Now did you get married before you were in the army? 11 RT: No, no. No, no. I was still trying to get back in Carol's good graces. Before I left -- well, I went, as I said, to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. Now the army was doing something really stupid at that time. They had been told to reduce the army's personnel requirements, and rather than reducing in any reasonable way, they chose to take one-third of every squad, one-third of every company, one-third of every battalion, one-third of every regiment. It was a paper army. It couldn't really operate well at all. But when the war broke out in Korea they took from those drawn-down forces and sent them over as individual replacements, supposedly to go into units that also had the same kind of vacancy that was created now. So we had almost no reasonable training while I was in the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment before going to Korea, and these people went into units for which they were not trained. The army was really messed up, really messed up. General Abrams one time in discussing this with a group of officers, after he'd become chief of staff of the army, had tears running down his face. "No army should ever do that to its people. There is no excuse for it, and as long as I'm chief of staff I guarantee you that our units will be ready to fight, if we have to fight." You know, oh. It was a terrible mess over there. So before leaving that unit in which I had a miserable career for that short period of time. For example, it wasn't two weeks later that the post's military police battalion left Fort Meade and went to Korea. Company A of my organization, of which I was a lieutenant, became the post's military policemen. Now, we know nothing about being the post's military policemen, not a thing. There wasn't anything in ROTC, there wasn't anything that lead us to believe. What I knew about policing was I'd seen in movies, and I hid behind the "Welcome to Fort Meade" sign in my sedan, and chased down someone that was speeding, and discovered it was the chief of staff of the post. At midnight I went over and had a bed check in the post's prison, to see that there weren't any knives in there. But I got called in and said, "Hey, come on, get off it. You can go to jail for what you're doing," you know. (laughs) It was crazy. I was trying to do my job as I knew it, but no one was there to supervise me in any way. JC: And how long were you doing that? RT: I left there in September. I went in in July, left in September, and got to Korea in late November, first having leave and then going to the West Coast, going through the checks and balances of travel over there. Just about that time MacArthur announced that the war would be over by Christmas, and as a result the army slowed down the number of replacements they were sending over. This was just about the time that the marines invaded Inchon, and it was followed up with the 7th Division behind them, and trapped the North Vietnamese soldiers below us. It was really a magnificent maneuver. So we were just sitting around in California waiting to get orders. Every weekend we'd go into town, and we'd go into some bar and then talk out loud about how we've got to go, and waiting to go to war, this kind of thing. Somebody would pick up the bar tab. (laughs) Then we crossed the Pacific during a hurricane, and that was something most unusual, as you might imagine. The piano broke loose in the lounge. It had been a troop transport in World War II, and they converted it to be a troop ship but for families to go to Japan or other places. At that time these ships were the property of the army, it wasn't the navy. 12 I remember distinctly there was a captain on board, mostly lieutenants, but this captain on board was a ranger, and he'd a big, puffed-up chest, and walked among us, and told us to stand up straight, and "Take your hands out of your pockets." When he'd get tired of doing that he decided we should have bayonet drill, and issued the bayonets, put them on our rifles, and went up on the deck. Oh, God. I said, "I'm not playing this game." There was a ladder still going up the funnel, in wartime where they had a station to look for submarines, OK. I went up there while everybody else was screaming and hollering down below and got away with it. It's a wonder I ever went anywhere in the army. (laughs) JC: So what was Korea like? RT: Well, let me describe it. We arrived the day before Thanksgiving in Inchon, got off the boat. There was a long, long tidal process; the ship couldn't get close to the docks or anything else. So they threw the nets over the side, and we were to go over the side of the ship and climb down into a small boat to go in. But we had all our personal gear with us. We were carrying great bags of stuff. I had two bottles of whiskey in my bag, and some damn fool says, "Drop your bag into the boat." I did. (laughs) But as a matter of fact, they took our uniforms away from us at that time and said, "We will hold them here, because if everybody goes home at Christmas it won't affect you for a while, and you'll be in a regular army uniform." But we got on the boats and went on the shore. They fed us what was left over from the Thanksgiving dinner, and a lot of canned fruits, put us on a train, and sent us up to North Korea. Each of us, each lieutenant, was on an open freight car, you know, enclosed but with doors on both sides, and each one of them had a little stove in it. It was cold, and we headed north, and every time the hospital train came south on that one track we would pull over maybe an hour before it came by, and then stick around and get back onto the thing. In my one car I had 27 people. Those cars were small. They were Japanese-style freight cars, and they were small. We had nothing but straw on the floor and a sleeping bag, but it was a summer sleeping bag, not a winter sleeping bag, and the stove didn't really heat the thing at all. There were slots in the side of the thing. Anyway. We didn't have any ammunition, and we would get shot at on the train. Now, nobody I know of got hit, but it made quite an impression. But still they didn't issue us any ammunition. There was a major in charge, and he was in the last car, which was a caboose kind of car, tight, a good stove, etc., etc. So whenever the train stopped we as lieutenants would run back and sit in his car with him and then take off again. Many of the soldiers would get off and run in to find somebody in the little town we stopped in and buy rot-gut whiskey. Boy, they were in trouble. One of the people in the car behind me, I was told, went blind on the spot. Maybe he was cured later, but it made an impression. We finally got to the capital of Pyongyang, and they put us on trucks and took us to what used to be a hospital. We went on about the fourth floor and were on cots, or on the floor, kind of thing, and at midnight that night some captain in the army came in and said, "OK, everybody out. Get down on the truck below. Let's go. Get your gear together." Well, we all didn't get there first, and the last of us were turned around and sent back. That batch was never heard from again. The next morning we were loaded on trucks and sent up. But before going they fed us a good breakfast. We went down into 13 the basement of this place -- it was steaming and dark down there -- and we had breakfast on some slate or granite tables. Steam is pouring out of the coffee pots, etc., and I filled my cup with coffee and took a big drink to discover that it was maple syrup. I went forward that day sick as a dog, sitting at the end, at the tail of that truck yurking all the way. I'm sure all those men I was traveling with, "Look hey there, look at that lieutenant. He's so scared he's puking," you know. We went on and eventually we came to a stop, and the captain who was leading this convoy came back and told us to get off the trucks and go into these schoolhouses that were available, right immediately, I mean, just saw them and said, "Take them." We went into the schoolhouse, and he turned around and went back to get "another load," quote, unquote. We never saw him again; he never came back. Here we are with no ammunition, carrying guns, living in a schoolhouse, and the Chinese are moving in on us. They were moving down the mountains on both sides of this thing, and then there was a tremendous, tremendous loss of life up the mountain further, coming toward us. The 38th Regiment that I joined after we got out -- I get the men out, and then I jumped on a mess truck headed south, all trying to find where the headquarters for the 38th Regiment was. The 38th Regiment was part of the 2nd Division, and it lost in about two days, coming through a real tight trap -- there was a river, there was a road that wasn't wide enough for two tanks to pass, and then there was a mountain again on the other side, and the Chinese are up on both sides just raking the convoy. One truck stops, you know, they've got to push it off the edge to get the convoy going again. Now I wasn't a part of that, but I joined the company that did, and when I finally caught up with my unit, it was because I had stopped in from the schoolhouse when I saw the 1st Cavalry Division people pull on in close to us, so I went over and inquired. I walked into the TOC, the tactical operation center, and there was a major sitting in front of a map, on a stool, making little marks on it. I waited a while, and he didn't notice me, and finally I said, "Sir, could you tell me where the 38th Regiment is?" and he turned around and said, "No, but where's the division? Where is the 2nd Division?" I said, "Sir, I have no idea. We're trying to find it. We were left off down here." He said, "I don't know where they are. If you --" It was that confusing. They lost something like 4,000 men coming out of that gap. Now, I wasn't affected, not at all, in any way. I was scared to death at times, but then after that I joined the 38th Regiment. When I went in to meet Colonel Pappal -- yeah, something like that -- he shook hands with one, and passed me a bottle of whiskey with the other one, and said, "Son, you're going to need this." I reported in to the battalion commander, and he at the time was meeting with his staff in a little hutch where the Vietnamese -- the Vietnamese -- the Koreans built their houses of mud and mud brick, and they would cook in an open room attached to the house, and the smoke would go under the floors and heat the house. We were sitting on one of those floors, warm and toasty, and they were passing the bottle of whiskey around this circle as we talked about (inaudible) [00:59:47]. By that time the bottle of whiskey got pretty hot. (laughs) It was a very strange circumstance. When he finally got to it, the battalion commander said to me, he said, "Todd, you're going down to A Company." I said, "Sir, and who commands A Company?" He said, "You do." I had about as much opportunity to learn infantry tactics and lead a rifle 14 company as nobody at all. My buddy who I was traveling with who had some experience in World War II in combat in Europe, came back and went to the University of Illinois, and then came into the army the same as I did, through the (inaudible) [01:00:34], he was sent down to a company that already had an experienced commander. You know. Nobody was thinking. I sent the first sergeant back to division headquarters, he got commissioned, and he came back, and essentially he told me what we ought to be doing. Then we did it. Until MacArthur issued an order, that probably came to him to do it, that said all armored officers that had been assigned to infantry units are to be returned to armored units. So I went down to the regimental tank company of the regiment where my company commander, before coming over there, was an infantry officer who was aide to camp to the commanding general who gave him the tank company in the 38th regiment who didn't know a damn thing about tanks. It was really screwed up everywhere. At a point when I was running the rifle company, I was told that a replacement was on the way, flying in, and he would replace me as company commander. Oh, great, that's good news. The guy showed up, and during World War II he had been in the air force as a bombardier. He had absolutely no infantry experience. He had joined the nearest reserve unit to his home when he was discharged. It really wasn't working out. Where we got replacements, the adjutant would go down and say, "Has anybody been through armored training?" Nobody. Nobody. So there wasn't anybody to send to the armored company except the people that came in (inaudible) [01:02:41]. So we were training these guys, but we weren't -- there were some old sergeants that really knew what they were doing, and that's we made. We eventually had a pretty good tank company. I remember my sergeant was a gruff, old son of a bitch. I walked up to a formation he was holding one day, and his back was to me, and I was walking toward the platoon. And I heard him say "The kid says we got to --" I said uh-oh. "Sergeant [Beach?], come with me," and we went in to see the company commander. I told the company commander that I couldn't resolve this one. He said, oh, very well, I'll assign someone else." Sergeant [Beach?] remained behind. Wow, I've done it. Sergeant Beach comes out. I said, "What happening Sergeant?" and he said, "I'm going to be the lieutenant in charge of the other platoon." Ahhh, God, you know. (laughs) It just wasn't the army I knew later on. Yeah. It was a very sad arrangement. It really wasn't until General Walker was killed in a jeep accident, and he was the 8th Army commander, and they sent General Van Fleet over to run it, and we by that time had moved 125 miles to the rear. We were running as an army. Word got out very quickly that General Van Fleet's orders were "I don't want to see your plans of defense, I want to see your plans of attack." And everyone says, "Sure, sure, General. You look at them, and you'll be all alone up there." Well, by God, he took that army and straightened it out and moved it forward and stopped the Chinese, without much additional support. It was amazing to see that happen. I'll never forget that, that one man deciding that he's going to turn the army around and you'd better fall in line. I did have one experience before that happened when I was with the tank company, and I was in a jeep riding down a road, and the division commander had decided that since we had all these losses, and we're all screwed up, that he had a way to make us all feel proud of ourselves and identify. The methodology he used was that one regiment would have a mustache, another regiment would have sideburns, and another 15 would have goatees. Crazy, just crazy. But I'm driving down the road, and an assistant division commander, a one star, is coming this way, and he went right by, and I saluted, and then he stopped and hollered back at me. I jumped out and ran down to his jeep. He said, "You're not obeying the division commander's orders." I said, "Sir, what do you mean?" He said, "You shaved." I said, "No, sir, I've never shaved." (laughter) God. Yeah. But General Van Fleet really pulled that into order, and he relieved a lot of people. He relieved my brigade commander, gave us a lieutenant to be the colonel's slot in the brigade, who turned out to wind up with four stars in the end. They made the mechanism work. JC: Amazing. Now, you were awarded the Medal for Valor in Korea, weren't you? RT: Yeah. I got a Bronze Star for Valor and a Silver Star for Valor, neither of which I really want to talk about much. I think somebody else would have done better to have them than me. I mean, I was pleased, happy to receive it, proud to wear it on my uniform kind of thing, but there was a lot of that going on to bolster up morale of everybody. JC: Is there anything else you want to say about Korea? RT: I don't know. At the end it was a pretty good experience. When we had gone into a stalemate, we started a rotation system back to the United States, and it was a point system. If you came within a certain period of time, then you could go back at a date specific, so we all knew when we'd be going back. There were points for the kind of job you had and all this kind of thing. It was interesting, I went back to Japan, spent a few days in Japan. When we got on the boat I was assigned -- as I had on the way over -- to a large stateroom, and I think there were 12 of us in it, and up and down cots. It was the same gang I went over with. You know, the timeline of where you engaged in combat were the same for all of us, in different units, and that was really pretty special. Two of them, only two of them, didn't come back, and they were both infantry officers. To the best of my knowledge, from the 38th Regiment that I was familiar with, the lieutenants didn't go back whole. The majority of them were killed. Those that were wounded were wounded seriously enough that they didn't come back to the unit. So it was us armored guys that, essentially, came back together, went over together and came back together. Stopped in Hawaii on the way back, pulled into the port, and there's all these hula girls down on the thing, people with big signs, "Welcome Home, Veteran." I said, "Hell, I'm not a veteran. That's a guy that sits outside the post office trying to sell pencils." (laughs) That came as a bit of a shock to us. But, yeah. JC: Well, once you got back to the United States where were you stationed? RT: Before I got back to the United States, on R&R in Japan, I knew of my rotation date. I called Carol, who by that time had finished her year after Smith at Radcliffe, taking the first year of the Harvard Business School program at Radcliffe -- business school faculty, business school-devised location, Radcliffe. I called her and said, "How about meeting me in New York City on such and such a date at the Biltmore Hotel? We'll meet under the clock." Now, meeting under the clock, there'd been a movie about that whole 16 business. So she did, and we went to my family's house. They'd moved to Scarsdale, New York, at that point. I asked her to marry me. She said, "Give me a couple of weeks." So I went back to visit my family. They're not my immediate family, my grandparents in Quincy, Massachusetts, and my other grandparents in Dorchester, Massachusetts. I went to -- my uncle, my mother's brother, ran a hardware store that had originally been his father's, and he said, "What are you going to do about a car?" I said, "I got to get one." I sold my car before I went over. He said, "Well, I've got a good friend who's honest, and I think we can get a good car." So I went over that afternoon and bought a car and called Carol, and I said, "I bought a car today." She said, "A convertible?" and I said, "Yes," and turned it in the next day and got a convertible. (laughter) I'd do anything to make sure she's sweet. She said yes, we were married on the nineteenth of June of that year, and she obviously had to quit her job to become an army wife. JC: So where did you all go after that? RT: The first station when we returned, and I'm talking now about the same group of army officers that went over and came back together, also went to Fort Knox, and we lived in newly-built quarters that were built by a civilian contractor on the edge of there, which were great for a newly-married couple, but they certainly weren't anything special. George and Joanne Patton lived next door to us, a small world, yeah. I've lost my train of thought here now. (break in audio) JC: And we'll get back started. All right, so we were talking about Fort Knox. RT: Fort Knox being a first assignment together in the army was really great. So different. I mean, Fort Knox was organized. Everything was working well. People were happy. Not that we weren't working hard, because we really were. My first assignment was to a training division. It took the number of the division, the third, and replicated it and then trained, basic training. I was in the 2nd Brigade headquarters working on the planning and that kind of thing. I really was disappointed that I wasn't one of the company commanders, but it turns out that that was a tough job. In the tank company, the guy that headed the tank company had more tanks than a tank division, and it was a mess to keep them all straightened out and going around. So one day I went back home for lunch, and Mrs. George Patton, Sr., was sitting in the living room of our house talking to Carol. She had come down to Fort Knox because George and Joanne had just been married, and Joanne got some kind of disease when they were on the honeymoon in the Caribbean. And I reintroduced myself to Mrs. Patton, and we sat down and talked. She asked me what my job was, and I told her. I said, "But I've got to go. I've got an appointment this afternoon to see the commanding general. They're looking for an aide to camp to the commanding general, and I really don't want that job. I really would prefer to get an opportunity to command a company in the division here." She said, "Russell, General Collier is a very, very fine man. He has a 17 fine family life. He is a very, very successful soldier who commanded the 2nd Armored Division at the end of the war in Berlin. You could learn an awful lot working for him." So I went over, and I got the job, and for the next two years I was the junior aide to the commanding general. I did such things as travel with him when he went to different places for different purposes. My buddies all got a hold of me when they found out I was going to do this job, and all had things they wanted changed at Fort Knox, and I was to be their agent in telling the commanding general how he could change the place. Very early on we went out of the headquarters, down the steps, into the car, went past the post theater. I thought, well, here goes. I said, "Sir, do you realize that on this post now an officer must be in his full dress uniform in order to go to the movies?" He said, "Yes, I know that, and it will remain that way." I didn't have many new ideas for him after that. (laughs) He'd go over to the armor school, and the people that are teaching in the combat kinds of business would say, "This is what we're doing now, General, and what do you think? We'd like your approval of it," and I'd sit in the back of the room and listen to what was going on, and understand it. I would hear the people that had served in combat talk about what you ought to do, and I got a great education. Also, every year there was something called the Armor Warfighting Conference. Twice I was there for that. They bring in all the people that belong to the Armor Association, or were serving in an armored position, all the senior people, and they'd talk about what the army ought to be doing in armor. One of my jobs was to go into the airport in the general's big sedan and his chauffer and pick these guys up and drive them back to the post, and I'd chat with these guys, and it was really fun. I got to know an awful lot of people, army commanders, army staff members, and all this. I really felt pretty special that I'd had this kind of an opportunity. Then we also had at Fort Knox in that time frame an armor board. This armor board, when General I. D. White was the commander at Fort Knox -- before General Collier -- that the chief of staff of the army was not pleased with the way the chief of ordnance was managing the tank program and gave the responsibility to the commanding general at Fort Knox. All the bigwigs gathered at Fort Knox to make decisions about what the next tank would look like, what the next armored personnel carrier would look like, etc., etc. Again, I sat in the back of the room, and young captains and majors, most of them West Point graduates who'd gone off to graduate school and were coming back and using their talents. It was a great, great opportunity for me. We were always invited to the house when the Colliers were having a party, and people would say, "Oh, you're going over there and pass the cigarette butts around with them, aren't you?" "No, we don't do that. We're part of that group." Mike Popowski here in town, his dad was one of those colonels on the post at that time. I really got to know all those people. Not that it was doing me any good, but I learned from them, you know. I learned how to act, I learned when to shut up. It was very useful, and it was a great time. The Colliers were magnificent to us. We had a child while we were living there -- it was Tom, and Tom got burnt badly in an accident at our house. He was crawling across the floor, and there was a coffee pot that started percolating, and he looked up and pulled on the cord, and it came over and broke open on his back. The Colliers came over and relieved us of our 24-hour duty, and they took it over; they sat with that baby. We were their family. It was amazing; it was wonderful. 18 Yeah. I began to really understand what the army was about, that it could be a good army. JC: Well, after Fort Knox where did you go? RT: Let's see. Oh, yeah. When General Collier left, he was to be promoted and going to go to Korea, and he offered me the opportunity to go with him, and I told him that I would much prefer to have a tank company in Europe. While I loved the guy and his family, I wanted a tank company in Europe. He said, "We'll take care of that," and he called up the commanding general of the 2nd Armored Division in Europe, the one that they call Chubby Doan, and told him the situation and that I would be on orders to go over to the 2nd Armored Division and a tank company. He said, "I'll give him a tank company." So, wow! You know, we made it, and off we go to Europe. We pull into Bremerhaven, which is the northern port in Germany, and they send forth a little craft to meet the boat. A sergeant first class climbs up the rope ladder and comes over and starts telling people what their orders are going to be, and I was ordered to something called the 13th Military Intelligence Group. I thought, oh, my God, something's wrong here. The colonel who was in charge of us all on the boat, for the boat trip, he got his orders, and he opened it up, and it's the 13th MIG. He said, "What's an MIG?" I said, "The best I know it's a Russian airplane." (laughs) It turned out that he thought he was going to the 1st Infantry Division for a regiment. Well, we got off the boat, and both of us went down to this intelligence group, went through two different fences, guards posted in towers and all the rest of it, and slept in an open bay area over the officers' club. There were a number of other offices there, and they said, "What are you going to do?" I said, "I don't know. I'm here by mistake. I'm headed to the 2nd Armored Division." They said, "No, no, you aren't. We're all in the same business, fellow. Tell us where you're going." And I said, "No, no. I'm an officer, and I'm going to --" They said, "We understood an armored officer was coming, and he was going to go underground and behind the Iron Curtain, and report on the Russian movements." Holy Crow! That's not for me. So the next morning I went down and asked authority to see the commanding officer of the 513th [sic] MIG. He spoke with me, and he said, "No, you're going down. You're not going to do that; that's rumor. You're going down to the headquarters in Heidelberg, and you're going to be an intelligence officer in that headquarters." I said, "I'm not an intelligence officer." He said, "That's your orders." OK. So I went down to Heidelberg. General Jim Phillips was the G2 at the time, and I asked to see him, and I went right up to his office and told him my sad story, that I was going to go to the 2nd Armored Division -- and he was an armored officer -- "Now here I am an untrained specialist in your department." He said, "What were you going to do?" I said, "Well, General Doan in the 2nd Armored Division had accepted me to come and be in tank company." He says, "I'll talk to him about that," and he reached over -- they had a red phone system that red phones went to the different generals in different locations -- he picked it up and dialed 27 or whatever it was, and General Doan answers the phone, and I'm sitting there. He said, "I got a young captain sitting here that tells me he's supposed to be in the division. Tell me about him, what are you going to do with him?" Well, poor old General Doan hadn't remembered much about the phone conversation a couple of 19 months before or something, and said, "Well, I'm going to make him my aide." And he said, "Like hell you are. I'm keeping him here for that." (laughs) I did it all over again for another two years in the headquarters at [Usera?]. [01:26:32] It was a great experience. General and Mrs. Phillips were a mother and dad to us; they'd invite us to Sunday dinner, and little Tom would crawl around the floor or under the table, and General Collier would feed him peanuts or something. It was a wonderful time, and when the Colliers would take a trip and borrow the commander in chief's train, we went with them. It was marvelous. I saw all of Europe. I knew most everything that was going on in the intelligence field, and it was a great experience with wonderful people. But when he got assigned to go back to the United States, I took the Colliers up to the port to put them on. When I came back, this again on the commander in chief's train, I had the train stop in Mannheim, and I got off in Mannheim. I wasn't going to be stopped again and reported in to the 57th Tank Battalion and for the last year there had a tank company. That was probably the greatest experience of my life. It really was a good experience. We were hard training, we were well trained, good people. In the beginning we had a wonderful commander who was a major, and the division commander, General Doan, didn't want to put a lieutenant colonel in that slot. He wanted this man to get that experience, but eventually they had to pull him and let -- the lieutenant colonels were backing up. So we were out maneuvering and we came to the last day of the maneuvers, and the new battalion commander arrives, and we have this party in a beer hall. The new commander arrives, and one of the company commanders in Charlie Company walked up to the head table with two boots of beer. You know what that is? Glass things that replicate a boot. Big. He puts one in front of each of the two commanders and says, "Let's see who's the better man." This poor guy that has just got off the train coming down from Bremerhaven and crossed the ocean picks up his boot and starts to drink. The battalion commander we love drinks it down and wins the contest, and the new battalion commander was so tight from drinking that beer too fast his feet slipped out from under him as he sat at that table and went right down under the table. (laughter) That was his first day of duty, and he didn't improve much after that. We were all pretty cocky, the company commanders; we were doing a lot of good things. But he knew nothing about it. We told him -- we were told that he had served in a tank battalion in World War II, and that's all we knew about him. It sounded great to us, a guy with some real experience. Well, it turns out that he reported in to a replacement company, and they said, "Take this truckload of men and go forward to point A. There will be a sign on the road at so many miles or kilometers. Turn left in there, and that's where your unit will be." Well, he got down there and made the turn, then went up, and three Germans come out and say, "Achtung! Put him in the compound!" and he went directly to the prisoner-of-war camp. He never had any experience. He'd been a public information officer before, and he was terrible. He was so bad that in a morning meeting every time, when he would suggest something the other three company commanders, we'd sort of nod or shake no. And "Well, what's the matter?" You know why? We didn't get any leadership out of him at all. When it came time to leave there, I had probably the most frightening experience in my life. He stood up in front of the entire battalion officer group and said, "Well, now that Captain Todd is leaving maybe I can take command of this battalion." Oh, my God. 20 Oh, my God. He gave me an efficiency report that would sink anybody, but it just turned out that in that moment of time the army changed the efficiency report system whereby your commander rates you, and his boss rates you, and then a third person rates what they did. Well, the third person turns out to have been the fellow that had been recently the brigade commander, and he knew me, he knew my performance, etc., and he sent back the efficiency report to be redone. Ho. (laughs) Yeah. Those were good times though, good times. Scary times, but testing, really testing you. JC: Because you were right there in Germany during really the height of the Cold War. RT: Yeah. As a matter of fact, one time we were out on maneuvers, 200 miles from our base, when the French and British moved into Suez, because the Egyptians said they were taking over the canal. There we are sitting out in the woods saying, "Oh, my God," because the president had said, "Oh, no, you don't." Eisenhower said, "No, you don't. You can't do that. We give you a lot of money to bring your economies back from the war, and we'll stop it tomorrow unless you withdraw." But we didn't know all that, and my guys are saying "We're going to gyro to Cairo," you know, that (laughter) kind of stuff. We finally came back. But if we'd had to go, I haven't seen a unit that would be any more ready than we were. Yeah. It was really a great exper-- In a company command, everybody doesn't have to bypass the battalion commander who's a dud. But when you do have to do that, then you're really thinking on your feet. It was great. JC: What was your next assignment after that? RT: Would you believe back to Fort Knox? JC: Oh, really? RT: Yeah. I went back there to go to the Armor Officer Advanced Course, which was a nine-month course in there, in which they were teaching you at the next level. Now the course we took before at Fort Knox was a course we should have had before we went to Korea. I came away with a great impression of how good that was. It was excellence. When I saw General Collier working with the instructors and telling them how to handle this kind of thing. When I came back three years later, it was a well-organized organization. In fact, General Abrams had been there as the head of the command department. It was a first class education. I really and truly look back upon my Norwich experience as not up to that standard that the army was producing there. At the end of that course I had talked my way into becoming one of the instructors in the command department, and I was thrilled to death about that. On graduation day I'm sitting in my chair on the aisle, and as the assistant commandant went by my seat he stopped and said, "You're going to be working in my office." (laughs) So I then worked for Colonel Chandler, who was a first-rate soldier. He had been horse cavalry, in the Philippines, and was on the Bataan death march. He was really very much a gentleman, very much strong willed, and very much of a tutor, and I worked out of his office. My job was to arrange the schedules of the classes, and we had all kinds of classes -- enlisted classes, officer classes -- so that they would mesh how 21 many people, how many classrooms do we need, how many instructors do we need, on what day are we going to do it? I was bringing home page after page of long paper, and on the kitchen floor working out the details of making this thing work. It was great, but, again, there was an intermediary. There was a lieutenant colonel who was my immediate supervisor who, again, I thought to be a dud. On my first day of working there he said, "That's your desk right over there." And I'm, "Yes, sir." I went over to my desk. Now what do I do? Here I am, I found my desk. There was a major sitting at a desk facing me who never looked up. He was just scribbling away, scared to death of this guy evidently. A few minutes later he came over and said, "Well, here's the first project I want you to do. This is it. I want you to study this, and then rewrite it, and we'll discuss it." Fine. It wasn't five minutes later, he came over and said, "No, I want you to do this one instead." I went through about six of those before I understood what I was doing. I was hopeless that anything was really going to happen. That same day he came over and looked over my shoulder, and I looked up, and he said, "What are you writing there?" I said, "Well, sir, I'm writing myself a note so that I will be able to put these things in the appropriate order." He said, "Well, you're not saying it very well." (laughter) It was awful. My out was Colonel Chandler, and a major got assigned to the office, and he very quickly understood what was going on here and went in and talked to Colonel Chandler, and Colonel Chandler moved him out. Again, we got a very, very fine operating organization going. It was good; it was very successful. But, you know, every time there's some kind of a roadblock in your career, you've got to stop and figure out how the hell you're going to get around it. JC: What was after Fort Knox? RT: Twenty more years of -- let's see. I graduated from Fort Knox. I was selected below the zone for a promotion. Do you know what that means? JC: Uh-uh. RT: When you're considered for promotion a board meets in Washington, and everybody whose career appears between this date and this date is considered. Isn't that right? Well, what they started, and I don't know if they're still doing it or not -- I think they are -- they would go below this zone and choose certain people to be examined with this group, and I was lucky enough to do that and really jumped ahead. In the headquarters there was Major Howard from Norwich University. Major Howard didn't graduate from here, but he was an instructor when I was a student here. He was in another department, or I didn't see much of him. But when I came out on the below-the-zone list, there were two of us at Fort Knox that came out on it, and he called me on the phone, and he said, "Well, I thought Frank would make it, but I never thought you would." (laughter) So things are weird, but Leavenworth was an exciting time. I was a captain. The majority of people were majors and lieutenant colonels. A real shock of my life in the first day was seated at tables, and there's a blank card in front of you, and the instructor said, "Now write your name on it, not your rank. Write your name on that card." Well, the guy sitting opposite me was a lieutenant colonel, and I was a captain, and I don't know his rank. What do I call him? We were all calling each other by their first names 22 rather than you find in a unit. That (inaudible) [01:41:04] like that, I'm up against it here. So I worked hard, harder than I've ever worked, and at the end of the halfway mark in the course they gave us standings of where you stand in the course, and I was number five or something. I said, "I'm working too hard." Yeah, that was good, a good period in our life. We had Saturdays and Sundays off. I had a little golf group I played with on Saturdays, and Michelob beer was local out there. We'd buy a pitcher -- the loser would buy a pitcher of beer, and that was a big deal. That was a big deal. JC: So when did you go to graduate school at the University of Alabama? RT: Strange you should ask that. When I came to the end of the course at Leavenworth a general officer, a brigadier general, came out to the course to announce to the armor officers, to the infantry officers, etc., what your next assignment would be. About the third name he read was a good friend of mine, and when he read off where he was to go this guy went "Ooohhh." The general looked down at him and said, "What's the problem?" He said, "Sir, I don't think anybody in your office ever read my request." "Oh." He said, "Major so-and-so, come out here." The guy comes out from behind the curtain with a big notebook, and the guy flaps through it, and he looks down, and he says, "I don't know what you're complaining about. It says right here, 'Anywhere in the world but Fort Knox.' And you're going to Fort Knox, your second choice." (laughter) Then he got to my name, and he said, "I want to see you right after this." I thought, oh, God, what now? So I went in, and he was in his office. There was a temporary office. And he said, "We've got a problem here," and I said, "Sir, what is it?" He said, "Well, they've got you going to graduate school, and as the chief armor officer I want you to go to an armored unit." I said, "I have a choice?" He said yes. I said, "Where will I go if I go to an armored unit?" He thought for a minute, and he said, "You'll go to the tank battalion in Hawaii." I said, "Can I discuss this with my wife at lunch?" and he said, "Sure," and I came back and said, "We have decided that we're going to go to graduate school," and that's how that worked out. JC: So you went to Tuscaloosa instead of Hawaii. RT: Yeah. (laughs) JC: Now, what degree did you get at Alabama? RT: MBA. It was a good tough course, but it was in the process of changing the curriculum of business schools, and some of it was very tough. Part of it was very simple, but some of it was very tough. I established a schedule where I went in very early in the morning, got in there before 7:00 every morning, went down to the basement of the library where I had an assigned carrel and started working until it was time for a class to begin. I'd go up to the class and go back to the basement, eat my lunch in the basement, go home at 5:00, and hardly ever did any midnight work at home. We lived a good, wonderful family life in Tuscaloosa. Now, it wasn't all easy. There had been the problems of the colleges not admitting blacks, and the president of the United States pushing hard to make them do it. 23 Then there were the riots at Ole Miss, right at that time. The army sent down its chief person who determines whether the applicants will go to college -- army applicants -- and to which college they will go to. So we all gathered, and there were people taking nuclear physics, and [we have to?] discuss with him, and he talked it back and forth, etc. Finally one young captain in the back said, "Sir, this is all very interesting, but the army's practically at war with our citizens. What the hell happen-- What do we do? What are our orders, and what are our instructions here at the University of Alabama, if the same kind of thing breaks out on this campus?" This poor old duffer who'd been the president of some college someplace sort of shook his head and said, "Well, I hope you'd be on the side of the government." (laughter) That hit right in the heart of soldiers. But it was a good program. When I left I was going to be assigned to the headquarters in US Army Europe in the comptroller's office, and you're required to stay in that position for three years to make up for your being chosen for that job. They want to use your knowledge and experience. Just before I left they changed it, and I went to the US Army Support Command in France, which had 57 separate organizations that it commanded, to include a pipeline that came in at St. Nazaire and went out to all of the air bases and army refueling, etc., and repair of tanks, repair of everything. We took German factories over, used Germans. It was a very, very exciting assignment in terms of technology, but I got assigned to the comptroller's office in that damn headquarters, and I was one of three soldiers. The rest were all civilian employees, or French. One of the people that worked for me was from Yugoslavia; he'd escaped Yugoslavia. So it was a mixed up kind of place. We lived at a French house down by the railroad station. We didn't want to live in the government quarters, we'd done enough of that. We wanted to have an experience in France. From that point of view, it was wonderful. The job was terrible, just terrible. They expected me to know everything that they did in their routine because I'd been to this business program. Well, I had to really move fast to catch up with them. My boss was a man by the name of [Birossi?]. He'd been an Italian-American soldier in World War II who married an Italian and never went home, and when they created the support command then he stayed on in Europe and became a very important man in the headquarters as the budget manager of this very vast organization. I worked like hell to try and get it straightened out. They first gave me the responsibility of working the budget of a couple of the major organizations, one the tank rebuild plant, which was -- God, it looked like General Motors out there. I finally got frustrated with it all. We'd all sit in a room, roll out our papers, and bring in the guy, the comptroller, from that organization, and you'd sit facing each other with Mr. [Birossi?] looking over your shoulder, and you'd work out a budget for them. How the hell did I know? I didn't have any basis for doing it, but we'd discuss it to get it. When this was all over and calmed down I said, "This is stupid as hell," to [Birossi?]. He said, "What are you talking about?" And I said, "We've got the world's best information technology program right in this headquarters, those guys that are working the plants do it all by technical means, punch cards, and here we are sitting around trying to argue about a number on a sheet of paper that doesn't mean a damn thing." He said, "What do you suggest?" I said, "I suggest we go to talk to them, get onto their system somehow, and work this thing out that we can make a reasonable stab at it." He said, "OK, wise guy, do it." 24 Now, there was a lieutenant colonel in this overall office who was Birossi's boss, and I went to see him and told him, I said, "Now, I'm not competent to do this. There's no question about it. However, if you give me two of those young captains of finance that work down the hall from me, I can get this thing started and going." So he assigned these two guys to me, and we changed the whole system of how we did the budgeting of US Army Europe. I got some kind of an award for that. Then they put me in another job where I had all kinds of stupid responsibilities. I had a responsibility for efficiency of each of these many, many organizations, and I got permission to send people -- Frenchmen -- back to the United States to be trained in each of those depots to do it. Then we pulled all of this together right as the secretary of defense had initiated a program to improve work force relationships, his program, and they sent it out and said, "Everybody in the army, navy, and the air force will use these procedures." And my two-star boss said, "No, we won't. We're not doing that. We got a god system, we just got it started, and, well, that's the way it will be." OK, you're the boss. So six weeks later, maybe two months later, there's a message sent to the commanding general that said "We're sending over someone from the Department of Defense to look at your program." I got called in to the CG's office, and he said, "You got two weeks to put this program in place." Well, you know, I was put into a position where I got attention, and I could do what I wanted to do, and I could get help to do it, and everything just sort of worked together. It was a great experience. But, again, it's a case of speaking up and saying what you think is wrong and finding a way to do it. I went in on the train from Orleans into Paris to the IBM plant with boxes of punch cards in my (inaudible) [01:53:43] and brought them into IBM, and we worked it out with them to do it at first before we turned it over to our own organization. That's because if we screwed it up, we'd screw them up badly. But those two finance captains did all the work. I just plowed ahead. Another time, in that same job -- I really thought -- when I got there I said, "My career is ruined. My career is ruined. Who's going to believe that I was in a damn headquarters for a support group? No, uh. I'm an armored guy. No." But anyway, they came up with another program, again, out of the Department of Defense. This time it was to work specifically with -- I can't remember the name of it, but, again, it came out of the secretary of defense's office, and again I got the job to do it. But this time I had an opportunity to start from the beginning with it. It was a matter of saving money, and we were supposed to put out programs, out to our subordinate units, and help them find money and other ways of doing business (inaudible) [01:55:09]. We started with the laundries, a simple thing, and went into the laundries with the people we trained, and they would say to the laundress, "How can you do your job better?" They'd say, "Well, I've been working at this for six years. If we did this, and that, and the other thing," and all of a sudden we weren't doing anything but saying "How do you do it?" and then helping them do it, and getting their boss to agree to it. Well, then you had to take all this information and turn it over to another agency who would check your figures, and numbers, and back and forth, and everything. That all seemed to work out, and things were going along rather well when they put me in for an award as the civilian of the year for product improvement. I was called (laughs) into Heidelberg, and they put on a parade, and the commanding general and I are -- there were other people, for other reasons, being recognized that day. I'm standing 25 beside the commanding general when the troops are passing in review, and he said, "What the hell are you doing here? This is a civilian award." I said, "Sir, you signed it." (laughter) And off we went. I just kept working. Living there was great sport, except the French are crazy. We lived in a neighborhood, as I said, on Rue de la Gale, and the house was an old one. It was rent controlled, and we had to slip the landlord money on certain days, and you'd walk up to his house with a paper bag full of money. A door would open, a hand would come out and grab the paper bag out of your thing, the extra money for the -- crazy. In the neighborhood we never made close friends except in one instance. Our youngest daughter, Ellen, went to French school. The other two kids refused; they were smart enough not to do it. Ellen and her friend [Pascale?] (inaudible) [01:57:36] walked to school with her mother and Carol, over to school. The ladies walked back from school. After lunch, walked over, back to get, march them over, again, at the end of the school day. And they talked, and they talked, and they talked. Not a single word of English was ever spoken for three years between these two women. We get back to the United States and got a very nice letter from her, in English, and she said, "You never would have improved your French the way you did if you knew I had been a nanny in Great Britain and speak English." (Cates laughs) Now, that's the dirtiest, rottenest trick I can ever imagine happening. (laughter) When we had a problem with the house, you'd try and go out and find someone that would fix the faucet. Now, there are four sizes of pipe, and there are 12 sizes of faucets, and there are 14 sizes -- and they ask you which one do you want? You don't know. So somebody has to come and measure it and go back, and two days later you've got water running again. When it came time to buy coal, we went down to the place you buy coal, and it was a storefront on the main road, right in the main store, and he's got little glass canisters with different kinds of coal in the window. You don't buy coal that way anywhere else in the world. We went in, and he wanted to know how many radiators we had in the house, and how many veins each radiator had, and how many sections were in the stove, and then he could figure out how many tons it would take to heat the house. He didn't ask if there was any broken windows, or open doors, or boards off on the roof. They did it totally unscientific. Then when you come to that decision, then they say, "Now do you want it from Belgium? Do you want it from --" you know, down the list. We want anthracite from Belgium, OK. Then they come and dump it in the house with buckets in the window of the cellar, and the whole house is covered with coal dust everywhere. And it was expensive. Living there was not easy, but we made a pact that we were going to go once a month with the kids to Paris, every time, every month, and we did, and we traveled a lot. Not any great distances, but we loved parts of France. But the French were very difficult to live with. JC: Oh, I'm sure. I've been there once. (laughs) RT: The worst one was my father had a cousin who was, in relationship to Dad, it was about six up from him in the corporation, and he was the chairman of the board. We got a call that he was coming to visit the French company that was owned by the American company, and they were going to come down and see us in this hovel (laughs). And just about the time we knew that they were coming but not exactly when they were coming, 26 the French left us with a bit of a problem. When they put in the sewer system, they left the septic tank in the house, in the basement, made of clay, and it began to leak. Do you have any idea what living in that house was like? You couldn't flush a toilet. When I'd go off to work and leave Carol, they had a deal with these crazy guys coming in, and eventually they came in. One guy came in, and he took off the top of this thing, and then he went away. She chased him down, and he said, "Oh, you've got to hire somebody else. The union won't allow me to put the hose down in here and suck out what's left. You've got to find that guy." And it went on, and on, and on, and trying to live in that house. Fortunately we got it cleaned up before Uncle George showed up for lunch. (laughter) JC: Sounds like it was quite difficult living in that house. RT: It was very difficult. Every single day one of us crossed the street to the bakery that was directly across the street from us, and we'd order a demi pan, and bring it back for breakfast, or something else. And every single day that one of us went, my own experience was I'd walk in the door -- "Bonjour, Madame." (laughter) The only guy that spoke to us lived next door, and the reason he spoke to us was that nobody else in the neighborhood, or the town, or the city would speak to him, because he had been a butcher during the Nazi occupation and gave the Nazis all the best cuts of meat. We had no phones. It took three years to get a phone, and it was a three-year tour. If you got a phone, you had nobody to call; they'd all gone home. They're crazy, just crazy. (laughs) JC: So what was the next assignment after France? RT: Well, while in France the Vietnam War broke out, and people lieutenant colonel level in Europe were being pulled back to the United States and given a command in Vietnam. So I applied to get a command in Vietnam, and they said, "Oh, no, no, no, no, you haven't finished your tour for having gone to graduate school. You can't possibly go." This is talking to somebody back in Washington. Then another job opened up, and they needed a lieutenant colonel in an armored battalion, and I called them back again. I said, "I'll come back to this job after that. How about that?" "Nope, we can't do that. We can't do that." Eventually they said, "OK, when you come home from --" I put enough pressure on them. "When you come home from France, we'll send you to Vietnam." And when we came home from France, they said, "No, you're going to go to the Armed Forces Staff College. You've been selected among the army, navy, and air force to go to the Armed Forces Staff College, for six months. After that, we'll get you a job that will get you to Vietnam." Well, you know, it's frustrating, just terribly frustrating. After the Armed Forces Staff College they told me I would go to Vietnam, but first I would go to pick up 57 tanks that had just been manufactured of a new design, and I was to form the tank battalion in the United States, train it in the United States, and take it to Vietnam. When that day came, ready to go, we had three rounds blow up in the chamber back at Aberdeen Proving Ground, and they said, "Hold it. You're no longer on the list to go. But you are going to go to the Naval War College." I couldn't get to Vietnam! It was very difficult. 27 JC: What was the Naval War College like? RT: Terrible. The Naval War College, well, we called it the sleeping room. They had two major speakers every day, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. That was fine. I mean, I loved to hear them, and they did have a message, but it wasn't work. It was sitting there like you're turning on the television. There was no challenge to this thing at all. Now you could go and get a master's degree along with it from George Washington, but I couldn't, because I had a master's degree, so they weren't going to let me take that program. So they hired somebody the University of Massachusetts had fired from their Economics Department, an old man, to be my mentor and take me through a separate program -- nothing comes out of it other than a dissertation at the end. OK, I'll put up with it, but he was awful, and it was a waste of my time. You never had time between these people to really go to the library and do something. It was 20 minutes. What can you do in the library in 20 minutes? No, you don't. Everyone went and get good coffee, sat around and talked, etc. Oop, time to go back into the bedroom. There was nothing going on in terms of substance in the place. When I had my first time as directing my little group, I worked long and hard on the assignments, and came in the next morning and said, "OK, let's see. Now we had readings in this one, and then we had a differing opinion from this requirement, and then this one, and another one. Commander Jones, what do you think about this?" "Oh, shit," he said, "You don't think I pay any attention to that, do you? I'm in the George Washington program. I'm not going to do any of this." That was a general attitude. There wasn't any depth to what we were doing. One day the admiral in charge, who'd married a British lady and had just come back from another tour in London, said, "How would you like to have lunch at my house with a guest speaker, Todd?" I said, "Gee, that would be very nice, sir." I got up there to discover there were 12 or 13 of us at separate tables and he and the speaker was at another table. What did we do? We sat around and chatted, and ate his food, and left. He said, "How'd you like that?" I said, "What are you referring to, sir?" He said, "Well, the opportunity to be with the speaker." I said, "We weren't with the speaker. You were with the speaker." "Well, how would you handle that?" "I'd put in a round table, and we'd all sit around and talk." "What a great idea." Really, really bad stuff. So he did, and then he invited me to come, and I went, and he said, "How did that go?" I said, "Sir, that was wonderful. But if you did that in the classrooms it might help, too." "We don't have round tables in the classrooms?" He'd never been in a classroom. We didn't have one single naval officer who was nuclear qualified come to the course. They sent them to the National War College. We didn't have one single graduate of a senior college who was on the faculty. I could go on, and on, and on about how bad it was. But one day, in Vietnam, I was sitting at my desk outside General Abrams's office, and I got a call from the naval head in Vietnam. I'm trying to think of his name. I know it as well as I know my own. But anyway, he called me and said, "Russ, I got to see General Abrams." I said, "Well, he's tied up at the moment. Come on up and sit down, and I'll get you in just the minute I can break into it." He said, "Good," and he came up. We sat there, and he said, "I got to talk to General Abrams. They're going to announce this afternoon that I'm the new chief of naval operations, and I don't want him to hear it from anybody else but me." I said, "Oh, have I been waiting for this." He said, 28 "What are you talking about?" I said, "You can do something about the Naval War College that I couldn't," and I laid it out for him, and he fired the guy when he got back there. This is Zumwalt, Admiral Zumwalt. He fired the guy and changed all the programs. I mean, they were tough on him, and they've got a good school there now, or at least the last I knew of it, a very good school that has been accredited. But it was awful. JC: Did you finally get to Vietnam after the Naval War College? RT: Yeah, that's why I was sitting in General Abrams's office. I was to be sent over to be on the command list, which meant this list of people the army feels are capable of doing a job as colonel in a combat unit. They sent my name over, and then they called me back and said, "We've withdrawn your name." (sighs deeply) I said, "Come on, guys. This isn't fair." He's "Hold it, hold it, hold it. They're looking for an assistant to General Abrams, and we've sent your name in." I said, "Look, I've met General Abrams a few times. I don't think he was very impressed with me. I don't think he'll select me off of any list of yours." He said, "There is no list. We only sent your name." (laughter) So I went over there, and I sat for, oh, eight months I guess in General Cao Van Vien's office, who was the head of the Vietnamese armed forces, and I acted as a liaison between General Abrams and General Cao Van Vien, of which there was no requirement. Those guys talked to each other whenever they wanted to. But I represented General Abrams when General Cao Van Vien called the other -- the Koreans, the Australians, the New Zealanders, etc., etc. -- together on a Monday morning to have a meeting, and that was interesting, and I learned a lot, and I met a lot of people. Eventually the secretary of the staff rotated home, and I took his slot. You actually work for the chief of staff, but I read and decided which messages that came in that night would go into General Abrams the next morning, so I got to work very, very early and stayed very, very late, day after day after day, seven days a week. But I really loved working for the guy. Every Saturday morning we would meet with the commanders of the army, navy, air force, etc., the CIA, in the basement of our building, and it was general so-and-so, admiral so-and-so, etc., and Colonel Todd. And Colonel Todd sat in the back of the room and checked -- again, a great learning experience. Watching the interrelationship between these very, very senior commanders was a great experience. Then I went with General Abrams every Monday morning down to brief the ambassador. We'd drive down in his sedan. On Sunday I'd prepare a book for him that he'd go over, and then he'd have that in front of him. He never read it. He never sat in front of the ambassador and read it. I'd be on pins and needles all the time that he'd turn to me and say, "What the hell's this?" (laughs) But he was great. Then I got a command. I left the headquarters and went out and joined the 24th Division as a brigade commander, and I'd been there about eight days when it was announced that the brigade was to go home. (laughs) The next day I got a call on the radio, out flying around in my helicopter -- I had seven battalions in the brigade at the time -- from the corps commander, General Davidson, and General Davidson said, "Meet me at coordinates so-and-so," and we both flew into a point. He said, "I'm pulling you out of this. I've got a problem with the Royal Thai Army. The officer we have working 29 with them is not acceptable any longer to the Royal Thai Army. I need somebody tomorrow, and you're it." That was the craziest thing I've ever been involved in. Wonderful, wonderful Thai commander, who began his military experience at age five in a military academy run by the government. He finished his education in France. The French owned Indonesia. Thailand (inaudible) [02:16:30]. So there we were. Day in and day out, he and I would receive the same briefing. He'd get it in Thai, and his aide-de-camp would give it to me in English. We never ever, ever came to the same solution. We were generations in thought apart. For example, in World War II Thailand never declared war on anybody, but went to war against the Allied forces when they thought Japan was winning. This fellow was a captain in the Thai Army, and he did something very spectacular -- whatever it was, I don't know, very heroic. He was called back to the capital, and he was given the Royal Order of the White Elephant or something. They'd give out five for every war. This was something very, very special, parades, the whole business. He went back to his unit, and then the Thais decided that the Japanese weren't winning the war, and they changed and became our allies. Now you're not going to believe this. They called him back and took the medal because he was fighting on the wrong side. (laughs) I could go on forever on this. My brain couldn't absorb it. When I'd left that and gone back to the United States, I guess when this happened -- I don't remember where I was, but anyway, I wrote him a letter, and I said, "What in the world is going on in Bangkok? You were the commander of the 1st Division, responsible for the security of Bangkok. Your father-in-law is the dictator. They're rioting in the streets, and, to the best I know, nothing's happening." He wrote back to me, after some (inaudible) [02:19:06] time, and said, "Well, you just don't understand our way of thinking. The soldiers had killed some civilians who were rioting, so I went back to my BOQ and stayed there two weeks, and when I came back my father-in-law had been deposed, and the fighting was over." Huh? (laughs) And it wasn't that he wasn't a good soldier, and it wasn't that he was afraid of anything. No, we'd fly around in his damn helicopter and take it places I never would have gone. On the other hand, he had some VIPs coming over, and he said, "We can't take the helicopter today. I'm going to use it tomorrow for some Thai VIPs, and I don't want any fingerprints on it, I don't want to make sure there's no bullet holes in the thing. We'll just take this other thing." What? We couldn't come together. At one point, the real one that almost got me in trouble -- I think it was on Thanksgiving -- our base camp also had three units in it from the 1st Cavalry Division, and the Thais, and the Thais who were responsible for the security, and I was responsible to the US headquarters. Well, on the big army base, maybe 15 miles away, on Thanksgiving night everything went up in the air, flares, and shooting, and machine guns, and all the Thais thought this was great, and they all did it. He called me in the next morning, and he laid me out. He said, "No Thai would ever do that. Your Americans did this." Well, OK, I'll suck it up. "I assure you it won't happen again, sir." So come New Year's time, I put out to my staff with each of his units, where they normally served, to stay with them all night and record everything that happened in that TOC. Next morning he got me again when I went in there. I said, "Sir, before we say anything else, I suggest you talk to your TOC officer." He went down there, and those 30 guys, we made them record everything, and he discovered that it was his units that were doing it. What do you suppose his answer to that one was? JC: I don't know. RT: He called in his senior officers and said, "I'm resigning from the army. You've let me down." And he went back into his hooch and stayed there for about three days. I woke up at the end of three days early in the morning, and the whole goddamn Thai Army that was posted in Vietnam was out there in a formation. I walked out to see what was going on and stood behind him -- he was up on a platform -- and they all apologized, etc., and he forgave them, and they went back into the woods to their positions. They'd left their fighting positions to come back and apologize to the commanding general. JC: Oh, wow. RT: (laughs) You can find one worse than that, I'll bet. My goodness. JC: Want to stop again? (break in audio) JC: Let's stop here, because we've done about another hour and 10 minutes. (break in audio) RT: Let's -- (break in audio) [02:23:15] JC: All right, this is Joseph Cates. Today is May 19, 2016. This is my second interview with Major General Russell Todd. This interview is taking place at the Sullivan Museum and History Center. This interview is sponsored by the Sullivan Museum and History Center and is part of the Norwich Voices Oral History Project. So when we left off last time we had gone through Vietnam, and you're ready for your next assignment. What was that? RT: OK. When the Royal Thai Army left Vietnam I moved out to a brigade, as I said earlier. But the time with the brigade was very unsatisfactory to me as a professional. It was a little more than a month, and that's not what I considered to be a command. So thinking about what would happen when I got home, I called to the Pentagon, talked to the people in armor branch. A lieutenant colonel sits on a desk and shuffles the papers for colonels and helps make the decisions. I told him I wanted to have a particular command at Fort Lewis, Washington, that I knew the command was about to change. And they said, "Oh, we've already appointed somebody to that port. But you are coming back to go to the Pentagon." 31 I had fought off the Pentagon earlier in my tour. When I was working for General Abrams I got a call from the Pentagon that said "We're bringing you back to the United States because a new position has opened up, and it calls for a brigadier general, and although you're only a colonel, we want you to fill that position." And I said, "Tell me about it." They said, "Well, you're going to be the army's first drug-and-alcohol-abuse officer." I said, "You've been watching what I'm drinking." He said, "No, this is what we've got in mind for you." And I said, "That isn't going to work. It just isn't going to work. I'm over here on a two-year tour, and if you want me to leave here, I'll give you General Abrams's telephone number, and you can call him and ask him to release me." Well, no, they didn't think they would do that. (laughs) So when I went back I went to the Pentagon, and there I went to work for a four-star general who I had met several times, because he traveled to Vietnam back and forth, General Kerwin, a wonderful, wonderful soldier. And when I reported in he told me that I was going to be the head of the department that he supervised for the Modern Volunteer Army. My job would be to coordinate all of the programs that were going on both at posts, camps, and stations around the country and around the world, and also within the Pentagon, to evaluate where we ought to be going. Well, OK. It wasn't my first choice. I had about, oh, 10 lieutenant colonels working for me in a very small office that didn't have any windows, and there was a lieutenant general working in the chief of staff's office whose title was the chief of modern volunteer army. So I was torn between two very senior officers who didn't agree with each other very often, and the job went on, and back and forth, and up and down, but a lot of answering letters from the Congress and this kind of thing, and then evaluating things that came from the field. Well, one day I was up in the next level in the Pentagon, because I'd been called by that lieutenant general, and he started chewing me out just something awful for reasons I couldn't explain. Finally he said, "I'm going down and see General Kerwin." My boss. What the hell's this about? So I was standing alone in his office. He went out a side door, and I said, "I've got to get to General Kerwin quick." So I picked up -- they have red phones that go between the very senior officers. I picked it up and dialed General Kerwin's office, and he has to answer that, no matter what's going on. And I said, "Sir, we got trouble," and told him what was going on. I saw him later in the day. He said, "Thanks. That really made a difference." From that moment on, he treated me like I was one of his best friends and had faith in what I was doing. Now, they did bring back in a major general who had just stopped commanding the 82nd Airborne Division, and he came in, and he was my immediate supervisor. But General Kerwin made a proposal -- not a proposal -- instructions to everybody about that time that said "Everybody that works for me in the deputy chief of staff personnel office is going to spend four years in this job." I could see my chances of getting a second shot at a brigade just going out the window. Carol and I had bought a house in Washington, the first home we ever owned. In France it was a rental, and everything else was army quarters. So this was special. She loved that house. She took a job in Washington, DC, in the personnel department, and then she had done a lot of that before, and that was sort of a big part of what she had done at Radcliffe after Smith, and she loved that job. In fact, everywhere we went she tried to find a job that would keep her busy and active. 32 So there we were, balancing back and forth. Now what do I do? Well, I'll go back to my old trick and call the people in my branch on the phone, and I called this young man early one morning before anybody else was in the office, and he happened to be there. I told him my plight, that I'd been really cheated in that one month I'd had in the thing, and General Davidson had said I was coming to Europe with him to command a brigade, and that didn't work out once he found out I'd never been in the Pentagon. "So I want a command, and I want to lay it out right now. I want you to start working on it." He said, "Sir, I'm not sure I can do that." I said, "Well, what time do you come to work?" He said, "Well, I'm in here by 8:00 every morning." I said, "Get in at 7:30 on Monday, because I'm going to call you every goddamn Monday I'm sitting at this desk," and I did. Eventually he said, "I've made an appointment with you with my boss, Colonel [Touche?], who oversees all the branches for colonels." I walked over, and it was my old friend from Fort Knox who had been the senior aide when I was the junior aide to General Collier. He had talked it over with the committee that makes these kinds of decisions, and they were going to put my name in nomination to go back onto the brigade commanders list. Great. A few weeks later I get a phone call that says "We put your name before the committee, and you are on the list, and you're number two." Uh-oh. I'm supposed to spend four years working for General Kerwin? (laughs) So a little later they call back and said, "Whoa. Wait. In the 2nd Armored Division the brigade commander has moved up to be chief of staff, and that brigade is open." I said, "OK. Now you guys call General Kerwin and tell him that you're pulling me out." They said, "Like hell we will." (laughter) So I went to see General Kerwin, and he sort of grimaced and (inaudible) [02:32:24]. He said, "You know my policy." I said, "Yes, I do, sir, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me." And he said, "I'll tell you tomorrow." So the next day he called me, and he said, "Against my better judgment I'm going to let you go to that command. But let me tell you this. The day that's over you're coming back to work for me." I said, "Yes, sir. Thank you." I ran home. (laughs) A little later, in time, the moving truck was in front of the house. I'd gone home, checked out of the office, done everything appropriately, and gone back, and there was a phone call waiting for me at home. General Kerwin. He went on to say what he really wanted me to do, wouldn't I know, is that -- "Sir, we've made our deal," and he says, "OK, but remember, I'm going to get you when you get (inaudible) [02:33:21]." And that was very pleasing to me. I loved the idea of working for him. But, again, it was a matter of just working your way through the system. It was terribly important to my career and to me. People were telling me that "You don't have to do this" kind of thing. You know, "You've done all those kinds of things." But no, that wasn't the career I wanted. So I went to the 2nd Armored Division and took over the 3rd Brigade of the 2nd Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas, and that was a real fun thing. I really enjoyed it. I had a lot of good people working for me. Some of them went on to become general officers later on. The first thing that happened was they told me that the brigade in one month is going to move to Germany on Operation [Forger?]. Does that mean anything to you? Well, in the Cold War we had built all kinds of home hutches and places to store tanks and materials that take a lot of time to get into the theater. If they said, "OK, the balloon went up. Come over here," you wouldn't have had any -- you'd have to wait for your 33 tanks for a month. So they had all those vehicles and stuff over there, and every year we went over and exercised the idea of flying over -- not me, the army did. It was my brigade's turn, and it was just great. I had planned that thing for every possible contingency, in my mind, and we laid it out with the staff. I said, "Now if this happens, or that happens, or this happens, this is what we'll do. Plan A, B, C, and D." And damn, I figured everything except it was going to snow at Fort Hood, and the air force wouldn't show up. (laughter) So we were about two days late getting there, and it slowed things up. But we went out on maneuvers for about a month and a half, and that was a great experience. I'd done it as a company commander when I was stationed in Europe, but as a brigade -- when I went over I've been detached from the 2nd Armored Division of the United States and attached to the 1st Infantry Division, when I got over to Europe. There for the first time I met a fellow named (laughs) -- I met someone, a senior officer, a brigadier general who, because my brigade wasn't part of his division, I had to go through the ropes of him looking over my shoulder for the first three weeks of what we were doing. It wasn't easy. Eventually he and I had a good reputation among each other, and then we're good. It worked out pretty well. Well, his name is Fuller, Fred Fuller. Just to move that part of the story a little further forward, when I went to Forces Command he was the DESOPS, and I was the assistant -- correction, he was the DESPER, personnel, and I was the assistant DESOPS. And again, good friends, you know. No, sir. I had to prove myself all over again to him. That was tough. That was tough. Then when I became division commander at Fort Hood, would you believe they made him the corps commander, and my boss again? And again, I went through the process. I called it rook training, he wanted to test me on everything that was going on, and then eventually he agreed, and we got along. That was a very difficult relationship I had with that individual. So we came back from Germany after the Reforger, and it was time to change division commanders. A general officer that I had met once or twice but didn't know came in as the two-star commanding the (inaudible) [02:38:26]. This was a fight for my life. He, in my opinion, didn't represent a good soldier. He would drive in his jeep with the two stars on the front, down the street, and the men in the division would say, "Hi, General," and he'd wave back, "Hi." No saluting, none of this. He would come around in my battalion and ask the company commander and the battalion commander to see their operational reports, and particularly the readiness reports, whether or not this tank would go or that one. He required them, not required them, but pushed hard for them to like take something off this tank and put it on that tank, and now we've created another tank that this one isn't working, this one if you take the parts and put it on this one, that's one less tank, but will look that much better. It was everything how you looked. Eventually he was promoted to lieutenant general and shipped to Europe, and his chief of staff caught on to his way of life, reported it. He got thrown out of the army, reduced to major general, and was retired. But that was a tough fight, that was a tough fight. In town now there's a major general, retired, John Greenway. Maybe you've met Phyllis. JC: I have. RT: Well, John Greenway was my chief of staff in the brigade, and I don't know how many times he saved my life. He'd say, "No, no, no, don't go up there and tell that general off. 34 Don't do it. Stop here." One time I actually said, "The hell with you, John, I'm going up there." I was really mad. Again, he had ordered my people to do something that was not proper. So John called up the division chief of staff, who was a good friend, and said, "Russ is on the way. Stop him." (laughs) So I never got in to see him, and I calmed down, and the chief of staff discussed it with me in a way. But it was a difficult, difficult system to live with, but I had wonderful people working for me. JC: Well, that's good. RT: Yeah. JC: What year is this? RT: Oh, my God. (inaudible) [02:41:04] I can't remember my birthday. (laughter) It was about '60 something, yeah. I came back to the United States, and I was assigned to forces command, where General Kerwin was, the man that said, "You're going to go work for me," and I went to work for General Kerwin just as I'd been promoted by the system to be brigadier general. I worked for him for two years and then another year with General Rogers, who went on to be the chief of staff of the army, and it was great. Real professionals who understood various ways of handling people beautifully. I must admit, he had a chief of staff who wasn't quite up to speed in my opinion, and as a result I found myself bypassing the chief of staff, which really isn't a very good idea. But both General Kerwin and General Rogers, when I was there, would call me on the phone directly and ask me to do something. As the junior brigadier general at Fort McPherson, Georgia, they immediately appointed me to be club officer, and to be the president of the Association of the United States Army chapter at Fort McPherson. I was really the junior guy in that headquarters as far as a general officer is concerned. The biggest thing that happened to me really there was that that's when we had the baby lift out of Vietnam, and then we had the evacuation of Vietnam. In the operations business at forces command, we had the responsibility of preparing those units in the United States, wherever they might be involved, to prepare them for the influx of people. I was up a lot of nights and really mad at the air force sometimes. They would bring in planes early, before we could finish taking people off the previous planes and get them, kind of thing. They finally came around. But it was a real wonderful experience as far as I'm concerned. I had the thrill of getting a thank you letter from the president and being called in by the State Department, who had the responsibility of taking these people once they arrived in the United States -- when they arrived in the United States the army was responsible for them. We took old barracks and tried to fix them up to be for families and all the rest of it. And the next step was to put them out into the population in America, and that was done by the State Department. At the end of this, the State Department gave me an award and invited me over to Foggy Bottom, and it was carried out in the formal part of that. It's a very ordinary-looking building, but inside, on the top floor, they have collected and put in there all the furnishing and antiques of America. They would go to somebody that had something that the State Department wanted, and they would say "We would like to have it, and we will replicate it exactly, and give you back the replication." They built -- it's a museum, it's a wonderful, wonderful museum of 35 American furniture through time. I was really impressed with it being there. I wasn't that impressed with the State Dept- people in Vietnam. (laughs) It was very interesting. JC: Yes, sir. So this was around 1975, that would be (crosstalk; inaudible) [02:45:47]. RT: Yeah, that's right. Yeah. I did one or two year. JC: Where were you from Fort McPherson? RT: From Fort McPherson, when my immediate boss left General Rogers called me in and said, "I want you to be my full-time top guy and deputy chief of staff operations." I said, "No, General, that isn't right." "What are you talking about, it isn't right?" I said, "You want someone that's been a division commander to be in that job. I mean, you're dealing with all those division commanders, and if the guy that's passing the instructions hasn't had the experience of being a division commander, it doesn't come through right." And he said, "All right. All right." About a year later I was on a board in Washington. You're sent in to do a lot of those things. Interestingly enough, on this particular one I was the head of the board for captains being promoted to major, and I got in trouble with General Rogers. The instructions we had were "These are the formulas, etc., that you follow when you're looking at the history of their being in the service. You can add to this other things, if you, as a board, want to do it." The first thing we added to it was that any captain who had served a normal period of time as a captain in the combat arms branches and had not had a company wasn't to be promoted on this occasion to major. Passing up a captain, you pass up the real army and the real understanding of the army, and, oh, boy. It turns out that we eliminated from being promoted five captains at West Point, instructors, and that reverberated around the world. (laughs) General Rogers finally calmed down. Then on another occasion when I was away in Washington he called me on the phone and said, "The major generals promotion list has just come out." I said, "Oh, good. Who's on it?" and they said, "You are." Oh, wow. After I went back he called me in his office and said, "Now, I'm going to send you to Fort Hood to command a division." Previous discussion, you got to have a command. I said, "Oh, my. Where's George going?" And he looked at me with this great strain on his face and said, "George who?" I said, "George Patton, 2nd Armored Division." I had been in the 2nd Armored Division twice. Four men have commanded the 2nd Armored Division, three of them during World War II. I knew that was my place in life. Well, he said, "You're going to the 1st Cav." Of course, when I'd been there as a brigade commander the 1st Cav was the enemy. (laughter) It was a little difficult to change my mindset that I was now the head of the 1st Cavalry Division, but it turned out to be a good assignment, too. We were immediately assigned a mission of working on something that was called Division '86, and this was the '76-'77 time frame. What we would do is to experiment with different organizational concepts, try them out, and another R&D organization would evaluate whether this was a good idea, or whether it wasn't a good idea. But, man, was that a lot of work. We had soldiers picking up their mattresses and marching over two streets, and then joining another company, because now we were trying -- we were going to have tank platoons with only four tanks rather than five tanks, 36 and these guys had to fill in for the -- you know, back and forth, and up and down. It was a crazy time, but it was very, very rewarding. We lived next door to George Patton and Joanne Patton, and as a matter of fact we had become very close friends over the time we were in the army. We went home on vacations sometimes by accident at the same time, back in New England, and other times purposefully. But we celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary together, both divisions, at the club, and it was officers. It was really good sport. JC: Was that your last command? RT: No. They sent me to -- at one Fort Hood, after two years of commanding the division, I went down and commanded something called [Tecada?] [02:51:38], which was a research and development experimental station kind of thing. I was doing to the rest of the world what they'd been doing to me, for two years I guess, at which point I was shipped over to Europe to be the deputy chief of staff for operations under General Kroesen. He was one of the most magnificent soldiers I'd ever met. I worked for him once before for a short time, but he was first class. Then I got a call from Loring Hart, president of Norwich University, who I'd gotten to know -- over his 10-year span as president -- pretty well. In my traveling around at various times, I was the head of the Norwich Club of Georgia, the Norwich Club of Fort Hood, the Norwich Club in Europe. They'd come over to visit, and we became close. I had come home on leave to see my dad, who was in bad trouble health wise, and I got a call from Loring Hart to my dad's home down in New Hampshire. He said, "I need you to come up here. I need to talk to you; it's important." And I said, "Gee, I don't know. Dad is not well, I don't know how long he's going to live, and I can't be here very long, so I really and truly want to see as much of him as I can." He said, "Well, afterward, after this weekend" -- it was a big alumni weekend -- "I'll stop in to see you." I said OK. Well, Mother got a hold of me, and Dad got a hold of me and said, "Go on up there." Dad said, "Get a hold of my classmates and tell them I'll be there next year." Well, I knew most of his classmates. When I arrived I found them at lunch in the Armory, and I walked down to the table, the half where they were, and started saying this lie about my father, he's going to be getting well, and he'll see you next year when he comes. All of a sudden the most unusual thing happened. There was this great noise in the Armory, and it kept getting louder and louder and louder. As this individual coming into the room got closer to our table, I discovered that it was General Harmon coming back, and all of these people were saying, "Ernie, Ernie, Ernie, Ernie." I couldn't believe it, you know, really and truly. It showed me just exactly how much he was loved by this institution. That doesn't mean he didn't make a lot of mistakes at times, but he really pulled us out of the woods. So Loring Hart stops in at the house and says, "The board at Norwich University has told me that 10 years is enough, and I'm going to retire. I want you to put your name on the list to be considered." I said, "You're a PhD, you taught English, you became the dean of the university. I don't have any of that." He said, "And you don't need it either, because I'm absolutely certain they're going to choose a soldier." I said, "What do you know, I'm qualified." I went back to Europe, told my boss, and then came back. I made a couple of trips back and forth. I told my boss, which was General Kroesen, what was 37 going on, and then went to see the chief of staff of the army to tell him that I was putting in my papers. You know, after you've been division commander you owe the army something, because of the experience they've given you. So I went to see General "Shy" Meyer, who I'd known in Vietnam, and I was a little dubious here. What will he say? So I told him, and he jumped up from behind his chair, rushed around to my side of his desk, shook my hand, and said, "Boy, that's just exactly what I want to do when I get out." (laughter) Then, unfortunately, and this doesn't have to be spread around, he told me that my name had been submitted to be promoted to Lieutenant General, and it is now before the Congress. Had I not put this in and had I been selected, I was going to go to one of two different jobs, and neither one of them sounded as much fun to me as coming home. Not that I could change my mind. Once you've told the army you're retiring, you're retiring. You don't change your mind. So that's how I got here. JC: What were the other two choices? RT: To be the chief of staff of USEUCOM, which was for the European theater of all of the activities there, and the other one was on the joint staff, doing the DES-OPS kind of work, which is called the J5. JC: So you come to Norwich. Talk a little bit about the application process, because I know Phil Marsilius says in his oral history that they gave you an eight-point plan that they wanted implemented. RT: Yeah. Very unusual I thought, and very useful. Before I get to that (laughs), Carol and I came. We went to New York City and joined a committee of the board who were involved in the selection process. The plane was late, the taxis weren't running, and we were late getting to this thing. Carol was a little nervous that that showed that maybe we weren't working hard enough to get there. They said to me, "We've just finished lunch. Do you want something to eat?" and I said, "Oh, yeah. How about a bowl of onion soup?" Carol said to me afterward, "You could have chosen anything but that cheese dangling out of your mouth." (laughter) But, to me, we had a wonderful conversation, and quite frankly I left in the cab going back to the airport with a member of the board who sat there and congratulated us, because they were certain that the board was now going to select us. Yeah, interesting. Where were we in our discussion? JC: The eight-point plan. RT: Yeah. I can't tell you what the eight-points are right now, but they were all reasonable, one of which was to make Vermont College work, the system of the two institutions together, and that's interesting, too. On that point I tried very hard -- they put a lot of pressure on Loring to go up to Vermont College at least twice a week. He'd go home, changed out of his uniform into civilian clothes, go up to Vermont College, and I don't know what he did, presumably he did good things, and came back again. I got into that routine with him, and I found that Vermont College was in deep trouble, I mean, in my opinion. Over time Vermont College had reduced the quality of their education in order 38 to sustain the number of students they needed, and they had all kinds of programs going that didn't make a lot of sense. They had a nursing program that was excellent. Excellent. They had just bought some programs from -- oh, what's the name of it? JC: Goddard? RT: Goddard College, and they were difficult to mesh into the family. For example, I hadn't been here very long, and I got a call from Mrs. Lippincott, who was the chief officer of Vermont College and had previously been Loring's assistant. I got a call that said, "There's going to be a graduation on Friday" -- this was about Wednesday -- "and it's going to be outside at Vermont College. It's going to be one of the Goddard programs that's graduating at this time. They would like to invite you to be part of their graduation." So I said, "Fine, I'll be there." But before I went I hadn't heard anything more, so I called up to find out, and I said, "Now, what's my role in this? Do I hand out the diplomas? Do I make a speech, do I congratulate them from the platform? What do I do?" They said, "Oh, no, they just want you to sit there and be present. They do all this themselves." OK. I can live with that, and we'll see what happens. The first student to graduate came up, gave a little speech, each one of them, and then took their diploma and put it from their left hand to their right hand, and went back to their chair. The institution wasn't involved. This happened seven or eight times before I really said this is something we've got to look at. Then they decided, or they didn't then decide, the next thing was to have a musical rendition. They had a fellow with a fife and a piano player, and they pushed the piano out toward the group, and the front leg broke off pushing it through the grass. They somehow got it jacked up and started, and the flute player -- well, it was awful, just awful. The next day I said to my vice president, Jim Galloway, major general, retired, I told Jim what had happened, and he said, "You know, you weren't the first. I was the first. The same sort of thing went on, but it was crazier when I was up there." I said, "Tell me." He said, "The flute player was in a tree." (laughter) So we spent some time trying to bring it into the focus. Quite frankly they had some fine professors. They just didn't have a system involved. JC: I've always heard Goddard is a little strange. RT: Well, put it this way. One time Carol and I invited the president of -- oh, in Burlington. JC: UVM? RT: N

Shinji Ichida, October 7, 2013 ; Business at the Crossroads - Ogden City is a project to collect oral histories related to changes in the Ogden business district since World War II. From the 1870s to World War II, Ogden was a major railroad town, with nine rail systems. With both east-west and north-south rail lines, business and commercial houses flourished as Ogden became a shipping and commerce hub. ; The following is an oral history interview with Shinji Ichida. The interview was conducted on October 7, 2013, by Lorrie Rands. Shinji discusses 25th Street and his memories of growing up in the Japanese community in Ogden. ; 30p.; 29cm.; 2 bound transcripts; 4 file folders. 1 sound disc: digital; 4 3/4 in. ; Oral History Program Shinji Ichida Interviewed by Lorrie Rands 7 October 2013 Oral History Program Weber State University Stewart Library Ogden, Utah Shinji Ichida Interviewed by Lorrie Rands 7 October 2013 Copyright © 2014 by Weber State University, Stewart Library Mission Statement The Oral History Program of the Stewart Library was created to preserve the institutional history of Weber State University and the Davis, Ogden and Weber County communities. By conducting carefully researched, recorded, and transcribed interviews, the Oral History Program creates archival oral histories intended for the widest possible use. Interviews are conducted with the goal of eliciting from each participant a full and accurate account of events. The interviews are transcribed, edited for accuracy and clarity, and reviewed by the interviewees (as available), who are encouraged to augment or correct their spoken words. The reviewed and corrected transcripts are indexed, printed, and bound with photographs and illustrative materials as available. Archival copies are placed in Special Collections. The Stewart Library also houses the original recording so researchers can gain a sense of the interviewee's voice and intonations. Project Description Business at the Crossroads - Ogden City is a project to collect oral histories related to changes in the Ogden business district since World War II. From the 1870s to World War II, Ogden was a major railroad town, with nine rail systems. With both east-west and north-south rail lines, business and commercial houses flourished as Ogden became a shipping and commerce hub. After World War II, the railroad business declined. Some government agencies and businesses related to the defense industry continued to gravitate to Ogden after the war—including the Internal Revenue Regional Center, the Marquardt Corporation, Boeing Corporation, Volvo-White Truck Corporation, Morton-Thiokol, and several other smaller operations. However, the economy became more service oriented, with small businesses developing that appealed to changing demographics, including the growing Hispanic population. ____________________________________ Oral history is a method of collecting historical information through recorded interviews between a narrator with firsthand knowledge of historically significant events and a well-informed interviewer, with the goal of preserving substantive additions to the historical record. Because it is primary material, oral history is not intended to present the final, verified, or complete narrative of events. It is a spoken account. It reflects personal opinion offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable. ____________________________________ Rights Management Special Collections All literary rights in the manuscript, including the right to publish, are reserved to the Stewart Library of Weber State University. No part of the manuscript may be published without the written permission of the University Librarian. Requests for permission to publish should be addressed to the Administration Office, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, Utah, 84408. The request should include identification of the specific item and identification of the user. It is recommended that this oral history be cited as follows: Ichida, Shinji, an oral history by Lorrie Rands, 7 October 2013, WSU Stewart Library Oral History Program, Special Collections, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, UT. iii Shinji Ichida October 7, 2013 Abstract: The following is an oral history interview with Shinji Ichida. The interview was conducted on October 7, 2013, by Lorrie Rands. Shinji discusses 25th Street and his memories of growing up in the Japanese community in Ogden. LR: It is October 7, 2013; we are in the home of Shinji Ichida talking about 25th Street and his memories growing up in the Japanese community. I am Lorrie Rands, conducting the interview and Melissa Johnson is with me as well. Mr. Ichida, I want to thank you for your time and allowing us to come back and do this interview. Let's just start at the beginning, when are where were you born? SI: Okay, I was born in Seattle, Washington in 1931, so I'm ancient as it were. I moved to Ogden when I was three or four years old and have been here ever since. So, I know the Ogden vicinity very well, plus the fact that when I was younger I used to deliver cleaning clothes for my uncle who owned a cleaning establishment and also worked for a flower shop doing deliveries. So, I got to learn the Ogden area quite well as far as streets and so forth. I've been here a long time. LR: When you came here when you were three or four, where was your first residence? SI: On 23rd and Grant Avenue. I went to grammar school at Grant School, which was on 23rd and Grant Avenue, so I was only half a block away from my grammar school. I grew up in the neighborhood and went to Central Junior High which is, I think, Lewis High school on 25th Street and Monroe. I graduated from 1 Ogden High School and went to Weber State when it was a junior college. So, I've been here a long time. LR: When you lived on 23rd Street, you were there until a teenager? SI: Probably, I would have to guess the 1930's and then moved to 23rd and Lincoln on the corner and was there for 10 or 15 years. Then, we lived at 127 Doxie, which is in between 27th and 28th on Wall Avenue. So, like I said, I've been in Ogden all of my life. LR: So, before the 1940's, what would you do for fun? Could you go down to 25th Street? SI: Well, that's where we hung out. Electric Alley, which is the back side of 25th Street between Wall Avenue and Grant Avenue, is where our playground was, in the back alleys. We grew up there. We had a Japanese School on Lincoln between 24th and 25th, so our activities were primarily from 24th Street to 25th Street between Grant Avenue and Wall Avenue. That area is very, very nostalgic to me because I grew up there. Where the Summit Hotel is now, that used to be our playground in the back alleys. The electric company, Yesco, it's Young Electric Sign Company, used to have their company on 24th and Lincoln Avenue. We used to climb over their fence and get the little tubes and break those and use them as spit ball deals. It's a funny thing because all of those electric signs always had the mercury in it, so I've ingested a lot of mercury through the ages, but I've never had any problem, health wise. I'm totally amazed that we survived those kinds of things when we were kids. 2 LR So your parents were okay with your hanging out on 25th Street? SI: Yes, because, like I told you before, there were really no aspects of being in danger there. Not our parents or us as young kids, ever feared getting mugged or kidnapped or anything like that. We just hung out there and watched. During the war we watched soldiers getting rolled and we saw drunkards getting rolled and it was all part of the activity of 25th Street back in the 40's and 50's, but that's where we grew up. Like I was telling you before, all the brothels in Ogden were on 24th Street and Grant Avenue, so we saw the seamy side of life. We, even as kids, used to climb up on roofs and peek in windows and look at the brothel place. We never did get to see anything, but always those kind of mischievous things are what we did as kids growing up on electric alley. Right now, electric alley has been fixed up so there's a lot of eateries and even the back side of 25th Street they have outside eateries. It's pretty nice now. Back in our days it was vacant lots and nothing but gravel and broken glasses, but we survived. LR: Is it strange to learn that those who didn't grow up on 25th Street found it a terrible, scary place? SI: Probably primarily the Caucasian race, they hardly ever came down 25th Street because during the wars years it was pretty notorious. Between the beer joints and the brothels, there weren't very many other activities. Union Station was a going railroad station back in those days. The military were transported through Ogden and the military always got a weekend pass or a pass to get off on 25th Street and visit the beer joints. I'll leave out the other one, I'm sure that happened too. Like I say, all the activities during the war was very, very open as far as 3 drinking and all that kind of stuff, so we saw all of that through the ages of growing up. LR: Speaking of the war, you mentioned this last time, but what are your memories of December 7, 1941? SI: Well, like I mentioned, I was raised by grandma and grandpa. My grandfather happened to be one of the more, I won't say important, but outstanding Japanese people in the Japanese community. On December 7, 1941, 11:30 at night, the police came and took him into custody and took him to Weber County Jail and he stayed there for a week and then he was shipped out to Mississippi to an internment camp and stayed there for a year and a half. He came back a year and a half after that. The war probably shortened his life by a couple years. He passed away when he was 75. I was ten years old at the time in 1941, so it was an impression that was very ingrained in my mind as far as a youngster was concerned. It was one of those things that, during the war at least when it broke out, the hysteria was very prominent and that's why all the Japanese descent people in California on the west coast were sent to internment camps because of that. The hysteria was so prominent. LR: You've mentioned that it had an impact on you as a 10 year old. How did that affect the rest of your childhood? SI: Well, I guess it made me introverted or reserved simply because you didn't want to be outgoing when you were of Japanese descent during the war years. I can remember grandma and grandpa always saying, "Don't speak Japanese in the presence of Caucasians because they'll think you're talking about them." We 4 primarily lost the capability of conversing in Japanese. That's why right now I can still understand a little bit, I can speak a little bit, but very limited. Whereas, Chinese, Spanish, they all speak their mother tongue in their families so they're very fluent and they understand it very well, they can read it. Whereas the Japanese people pretty much lost it because of the war. I dare say the second third and fourth generation as far as the Japanese language itself, cannot speak it, cannot read it. We lost the ability to converse in Japanese simply because we were told not to use it. That's the way it was during the war time. LR: When the war was over and things were kind of settling down a little, you just didn't start speaking it again? SI: No, because by then my grandparents were very elderly, they were close to, I think 70's, so they were on their last leg if you will as far as their life was concerned, so our conversations were very limited and we spoke primarily English because we grew up that way with school and all of that. We ran around with nothing but English speaking kids and same nationality as me. You probably had 10 guys that you grew up with that were Japanese decent, but we all spoke English all the time. We never used Japanese words other than maybe a slang or a swear word or something like that. Other than that, we never used it. We never had the occasion to use it, so we primarily grew up using English. We even went to Japanese school when we were teenagers, the more simple reading and writing of the Japanese alphabet if you will, until the war broke out. After the war broke out, that was done away with simply because of the hysteria as far as Japanese people were concerned. 5 I'll tell you a little bit more about 25th Street. There was a Buddhist church on Lincoln Avenue between 24th and 25th. There was a dry goods store on the same block. There was a Chinese gambling casino on the same block and people say it was an opium den also, but I was never privy to that. I would imagine there was some of that going on because in those days it was pretty loose as far as gambling and stuff was concerned. The Lincoln Avenue between 24th and 25th had probably half a dozen Japanese residents and companies or stores, if you will. On the west side of Lincoln there was a Pacific Fruit, which was a produce company that primarily was run by Japanese people too. It was all very Japanese community oriented in that two block area. LR: So, the area between Lincoln and Grant and 23rd to 25th? SI: No, 24th to 25th. LR: Okay, so you mentioned last time that it was what you guys called Japanese town or J-town. Is it just that block then that was considered that? SI: Yes. It was just that one square block that was considered J-town because most of the stores were in that square block. There were establishments on Kiesel and Wall Avenue and over on 26th Street there were families living there too, but as far as the town activity itself, it was right in that one block area. LR: Speaking of the businesses, during the war and then afterward, was it hard for the Japanese to continue working? Were the businesses still able to function? SI: Yes, but to a lesser degree because it was affected during, I would dare say, probably a five to ten year spam. After that things went pretty much back to 6 normal. By then, the ones that weren't making an income probably closed up before that. The ones that were doing okay continued on. Like I told you, on Grant Avenue there was Utah Noodle and Bamboo Noodle right next to each other, which did very well during that time period. The reason I know is because my wife's brother owned Utah Noodle. They moved up to Washington in the 1970's and they kept going until just last November. There was one document in there that you probably need to read because Raymond Uno was the one who wrote it and he's a retired judge. He's very well-known in the community as far as the aspects of people that judge things. Anyway, he wrote that and he mentioned there were primarily three J-town or Japanese communities in Utah. One was in Price City in Carbon County, one was in Salt Lake and the other was in Ogden. The only reason we had one in Ogden was because primarily the Union Depot because the Japanese, the first generation Japanese that came to Utah, most of the people, or guys, that came to the United States worked on the railroad, so consequently, the relationship between the Union Pacific Station and settling here in Ogden was very cohesive as far as being in existence as far as working for the railroad. That was one of the reasons the Japanese community was in Ogden and then Salt Lake it was simply because it was the largest city and the reason in Carbon County in Price was because of the coal mines. They worked in the coal mines. LR: Did your grandfather work on the railroad? SI: No. LR: He had another business? 7 SI: Yes. Like I said, he was sort of a semi-important person in the Japanese community. He never had to do manual labor, he was always a higher up guy that did bookwork and stuff. LR: Did he have his own business? SI: They had what they called the Intermountain Japanese Association which was an association that developed Japanese American relationships within the Northern Utah area. He was very prominent as far as the Japanese community from Corrine in the north to Salt Lake in the south. In the organizations or Buddhist church and community things going on, he had his fingers in all of those areas. He was very well-known and established as far as importance in the Japanese community. That's one of the reasons he was interned immediately when the war broke out. LR: So, I'm kind of going backwards a little and I apologize. You mentioned that there was only about a dozen from Ogden that were interned and they were all important in the community. SI: Important in the Japanese community. Primarily guys like, I can name two or three of them, there was Mr. Sakurada who was a prominent market established entrepreneur. There was Dr. Yoshitaka, who was a dentist. There was Kobayashi, who owned the Utah hand laundry. Those kinds of people were the ones that were taken, that owned their own establishment, that were highly thought of in the upper echelon as far as the Japanese community was concerned. They were the ones that were picked up right from the very beginning and taken. 8 LR: The ones that owned their own businesses, did their business suffer? SI: Yes. Like I said, probably the first five years was the worst. After that they probably slowly came back. At least in the Ogden area, there really wasn't all that much prejudice. There were a handful that thought of you as the enemy, if you will, and called you all kinds of names and stuff, but that was minimal in the Ogden area. On the west coast it was predominant. I've heard those stories like there's a senator from Hawaii, Daniel Inoway, who's passed on now, but he was in the army in the 442 and he lost one of his arms. When he got discharged in California, he went to a barbershop to get a haircut and they wouldn't cut his hair because he was of Japanese descent. He even had on his uniform, that's how bad it was back in those days. It's something that we lived with and grew up with, but we got over it so to speak. It's still in the back of our minds or in our memory, but we got over it. I'm 82 now, and I can still remember certain instances. In Ogden there were two areas that we were not allowed to go to because we were Japanese people. One was KLO, which was above the Orpheum Theater. We couldn't go to that theater to see a movie because they feared we would do something to KLO, which was a radio station. Those things didn't last very long, it only lasted probably a year or a year and a half. After that they lifted. There were certain areas that Japanese race people could not go. In California it was even twice as bad, so here in Ogden or here in Utah, it wasn't all that bad. LR: This obviously shaped your childhood and as you grew in your teenage years. You talked about your uncle who owned a cleaning establishment and that you would deliver clothes. 9 SI: Was there any prejudice when I delivered? Let's see, that would have been, I graduated in 1949, so it would have been 1948, 1949 and I went into the service in 1951, so between 1948 and 1950 is when I used to deliver clothes for my uncles. I never had any problem because I was a typical teenager. LR: You were just doing your thing. SI: Yes. Most of the Caucasian people never entered their mind as far as a kid delivering clothes that they would be prejudice against. One thing I will say for my uncle. He did a very good job of cleaning clothes, so we had a lot of real good customers, so I never had, at least to my knowledge, I can't remember ever being discriminated against while I was working there. LR: Kind of a lighter question, when you were in your teenage years, would you still do the same things for fun? Would you still be on 25th Street or were you kind of expanding out into the community? SI: No, that was our area, that's all. We only grew up between school and that one block area, that's primarily where we hung out and played. It's really funny because as kids, we used to make swords and have swordfights and we used to make little rubber guns and use inner tubes, because in those days, inner tubes were in tires, so we used to make those and have rubber gun fights. I told you about Young Electric Sign Company and the blowers, we used to do that. So, we played marbles, we played tag, Annie eye over the roofs. Kids nowadays don't know how to play compared to what we used to do when we were young. I see kids now just for, I don't know why, they'll go and pick a flower off of somebody's bush and throw it in the gutter or sidewalk. Why do you want to do that? If you 10 pick it, why don't you take it home? I just can't fathom why kids do that now. The kids I see now go and, even the grammar school kids, when they get off at 3:00pm, they dare cars to hit them. They cross the street and they slow down, they don't hurry up. I can't imagine why kids are like that anymore. It doesn't make any sense. They're daring you to hit them and I tell young kids, I say, "I hope your skin is tougher than that bumper." They look at me, "well, what do you have to say about it?" I'm thinking, "Well, you know, logic up here tells you that you shouldn't be doing that." That's the kind of stuff that we used to do back in the electric alley and we grew up that way. We made our own entertainment and got along— along with the mischievous stuff. LR: Of all the businesses on 25th Street that you didn't necessarily frequent, but you were able to be around, which ones were your favorite? Did you have a favorite that you just liked to hang out in front of? SI: Well, restaurant wise I've got to say Bamboo and Utah Noodle probably. I wasn't married to my wife at that time when I was a kid, but Bamboo Noodle used to have a bowl of noodles for 35 cents, so we could go in there and afford to have a bowl of noodles. We didn't have a lot of money in those days, but 35 cents wasn't much money either. Those were the kind of places that we often frequented. As we grew up, I can remember when I was in high school, we visited Salt Lake a lot because 1st south and West Temple was J-town in Salt Lake. There used to be three or four cafes in that area that we went to all the time too. When I was growing up, when I got to high school, there was one older guy that we hung out with. He was one year older than us, so he was the guy that had the car. There 11 was a half a dozen of us guys, he would furnish the car and we would pitch in our 25 or 50 cents to buy gas and we'd go to Salt Lake. That's the way we used to survive. In those days, gas was 20 cents or 25 cents a gallon. LR: Going back to the discrimination on the street. I asked last time about the blanket discrimination on the street. The south side was where the blacks were allowed and they weren't allowed on the north. You mentioned that you didn't really see a lot of that until later. SI: In Ogden, the race situation really wasn't that terrible. Like I mentioned, when I went into the service, I went to Texas to take my basic training and that was the first exposure to real prejudice because there were separate drinking fountains, separate lavatories, and all of that kind of stuff. In Ogden, the black community primarily stayed on the west side. They all lived on Lincoln and Wall Avenue. That was the area that blacks lived and the Japanese people were primarily around 25th Street and the Mexicans, there weren't that many in Ogden at that time, so those were the two major races in Ogden that existed. There were a few Chinese too, but they were also mixed in with the Japanese community because they are an Asian or Oriental race. In Ogden, I really didn't see that much racial prejudice, whether it was against the Japanese or against the colored because on 25th Street, there wasn't that much prejudice. It wasn't all that bad. Like I told you, the only time I ever saw it really predominant was in the south when I went into the service. LR: As you got older and graduated from high school, what did you decide to do career-wise? 12 SI: I didn't have the slightest idea of what I was going to do. In fact, I had no aspirations to go to college. The Korean War broke out and before we got drafted, I decided to join, so I joined the Air Force. I went in the Air Force for four years and came out and bummed around and worked half a dozen different jobs and I really had no secret desire to be a doctor or a lawyer a carpenter or anything like that. I just, you know, went with the flow, if you will, helped primarily with my uncle in his dry cleaning business. I even delved into a flower shop because of delivering and those kinds of things. I don't know if it's luck or, I happened to go take a test at the capital for this appraisal job and happened to pass it so I went for an interview with the state tax commission and they asked me a bunch of questions about appraising and so forth and I guess I did all right because they said, "When would you like to start?" I said, "How about tomorrow?" I started. That's history. I've been doing that ever since. LR: Your uncle's cleaning establishment, his dry cleaning business, do you remember what it was called? SI: Economy Cleaners on 24th Street between Grant and Kiesel on the north side of the street. LR: As time has gone on and you've had a chance to look at 25th Street the way it is now, do you like the way it's changed? SI: Yes, I really do. In fact, I'm rather surprised with the activity on 25th Street now. In fact, we go down to the sushi bar, Tona's, on 25th Street and by the way, it used to be Western Barbershop that Wat Misaka, the one that used to play for Weber College and also Utah University, that's where his mother had a 13 barbershop. In fact, I dare say there's my hair on the floor someplace in that building because I've had my hair cut there all the time. That café is where the barbershop used to be and we go down there quite often. To find a parking space on 25th Street in the evening time is pretty tough to do. We can park in the back where the hotel is because that had a lot of parking space. We go down to Karen's Café which is half a block further west on the south side of the street. Saturdays they have the farmer's markets and there are a lot of people down there milling around. I've got to say, Ogden, thanks to the mayor and so forth, the activities, there's a lot of activity going on in downtown Ogden, I'm surprised. It's progress. All of the old buildings that I know about primarily are all gone. The hotels replaced, the federal buildings are replaced, almost all of the buildings. You asked about Star Noodle, that closed up and it's vacant right now and it's for sale. Its progress I guess. LR: Hopefully for the better. Do you have any questions? MJ: I had a few that I jotted down. You mentioned that you were born in Seattle and then came to Ogden when you were three or four. How come your family relocated to Ogden? SI: Well, it wasn't, let me back up a little bit. When I was born, my family moved to San Francisco, California. Mom and Dad and my older brother and I lived there and when I was three or four, they shipped me to Ogden to live with my grandma and grandpa because Mom was very ill at the time and it so happened that I liked it better here than I did there, so they said, "Well, you can stay," hoping that I would come back eventually, but I never did I just stayed in Ogden. I grew up in 14 Ogden and later there was a younger brother that was born, so my knowledge of my two brothers were less than the guys I used to run around with because I never grew up with them. So, they were living in California when the war broke out which is why they were sent to an internment camp. Manzanar was the name of the camp they went to in California. When they got out they decided to go to Cleveland, so that's where they relocated after the internment. So, when they moved out there I had no reason to go back east, so I stayed here. That's the way it was. I just grew up as grandma and grandpa's kid. LR: You were, in essence, an only child with your grandparents? SI: Yes. Until my uncles and aunt came and they took over living and taking care of grandma and grandpa as far as their life was concerned. That's why I got an association with the cleaners, but after that, my aunt and uncle primarily raised me, which was after probably my sophomore or junior year in high school. When I went in the service and came back I was old enough that I pretty much went out on my own. MJ: So, how did your grandparents settle in Ogden? Why did they settle here? SI: I really don't know how they came about coming here. My grandma is the mother of my uncle, Tominaga, and my grandfather remarried my grandma. He was originally married to another lady. I never met her, I just knew about her. Grandma was always here as I remember and grandpa came from, I don't know where he came from, other than Japan. He came here and they got married. My grandpa was one of the, I don't know if you want to use the word "instigator," but he was one of the ones that took care of, the Japanese word is, "Bishakunin," 15 which means, "picture marriage." They used to fix up guys that lived in Ogden or the Utah area that never got married, fixed them up with a wife from Japan just through pictures. LR: Wow. SI: Yes, that used to go on back in the old days. That was primarily to get Japanese descent ladies from Japan into the United States because in those days there was a limited amount of foreigners that came into the United State, but if you could arrange a marriage, then that took place and they were able to come. The guys were always already American citizens because they were born in the United States. They were always older guys that went through their life primarily working for their parents and never interfaced into the American life and dating, etc. So, that's why those kinds of marriages were arranged for the Japanese. MJ: Would they go to Japan and marry them and bring them back or would they bring girls to the U.S.? SI: Some of them would go just to meet them to make sure that they wanted to marry them, but some of them just "cold turkey" came over. I don't know if that's the right term to use, but they came over and got married over here. MJ: You said your aunt and uncle came to Ogden as well. Were they the only other extended family that you had or did you have other aunts and uncles? SI: Well, through marriage, yeah, my aunt's sisters lived in Idaho and I got to know them, but as far as my uncle, my mother and uncle were brother and sister and they were the only two in the family. So, not really a lot of relatives. I know on my 16 father's side there are people in japan still existing. When I went to Japan I looked them up and visited with them, so that was a good experience. MJ: I wanted to talk a little bit about that Intermountain Japanese Association. Do you know how it started? SI: I can't tell you anything about it because all I remember is that he was the head of it and they paid him. I don't know how in the heck he got paid, to tell you the truth, but I'm sure it was the community donating or paying him a certain amount of money for whatever he did. I don't know how it started or why it started, or why they chose him to take care of it because I was only eight or ten years old at that time. I just know that there was such a thing. My grandpa, I got to give him all the credit in the world for raising me right. Like I told you before about kids and how they act, in my days when I was growing up, grandpa was good for this. He used to always give me one of these if I did something wrong, it was one of these little knuckles in the head. It wasn't very hard or anything, it was just a reminder that you need to shape up and do things right. It was a good learning experience, even while I was going to school. If I got stuck on some algebra problem or whatever, he would take me aside and he'd say, "Now, this is the way you do it," and he'd give me one of these and say, "Maybe that'll help you remember." He was very stern and I didn't dare go against his wishes or ever miss mind whatever he said. I can thank him from the bottom of my heart today because that's the way I was raised. My kids were raised pretty much the same way because I used to pull out the belts, if you will, and give them a spanking now and again when they 17 misbehaved. In today's age you couldn't do that. You would be mishandling children. It's a different culture from the time I grew up to now. I can see kids, like I said before, that's what they need a little bit, one of these or a little kick in the butt, if you will. Maybe that would straighten them out. That's why you get, when they get into their later teens and early twenties they get into this kind of stuff that is more serious like robberies, etc. MJ: The other thing I was kind of wondering, we talked about the hub that the Union depot was. It was that railroad hub and it brought in so much business during the war, but we know later on that declined, so how did that affect the Japanese businessmen who were down there? SI: As time went on, I dare say, probably in the seventies, most of your Japanese community establishments disappeared. There are a few that lingered on, like my wife's brother, he existed in business for 57 years, if you can believe it. Those were far and few between. For whatever reason they either quit the business or went into something that was a little bit more lucrative or more meaningful. All of those kinds of businesses that the Japanese community was in in those days were, not demeaning, but lower class, if you will, lower income, if you will, because that's all they could do at the time. That was normal for foreigners to get established, so that's what they did. Before I forget, the hotel Ben Lomond, did you know that was originally a different hotel named, "Bigelow?" MJ: Yes. SI: Okay, that's good. I didn't really realize that until we did this day or remembrance in 2007. I was doing some historical work and I found out it was Bigelow and I 18 thought, "Wow, that's strange." I always knew it as Ben Lomond Hotel. That's one fact I wanted to bring up to you guys because that was back in the thirties, maybe even twenties? MJ: It was about then. Archie Bigelow, who owned it, it was during the depression that he lost his fortune and sold it to the Eccles family. SI: It was interesting to me because I've never known it as anything else other than Ben Lomond. MJ: It's fun working in special collections the way that we do because we learn all these little tidbits. We go out and talk to people and get their stories. SI: Have you heard about the Egyptian Theater and the Peery family? Peery used to be quite a notorious guy in his days. MJ: I know, mostly as the mayor, the cowboy mayor. SI: I think he was an instigator of pioneer days way back when. MJ: The Buddhist Temple that was there on Lincoln, how long was that there for? SI: Growing up, as a kid, it was always there when I was small, but they relocated to North Street, I'm thinking it had to be in the fifties or sixties. That's where all the Japanese funerals were done and the Buddhist celebrations, whatever they had, the hana matsuri and that kind of stuff was all down there. MJ: We actually have a couple of pictures of a parade that was done by the Japanese Buddhist. I'm not sure when the photos were taken; I think they were from the fifties or sixties. 19 SI: I think I know what one you're talking about because I've got the same ones. I was looking for that, but I don't know where it is on my computer. The one with the little children in their Kimono's? MJ: Yes. SI: Yes, that one. I think it's probably the same picture. MJ: Did they often do parades like that? SI: Yes, because the hana matsuri I'm talking about is an annual thing that they celebrate in Japan primarily and it came over from Japan. They perpetuated the custom and so forth. They celebrate by doing the dances and stuff and it's always in their Kimono's and that kind of stuff. They used to do it all the time. MJ: It's hana matsuri? SI: Yes, "hana" means "flower" and "matsuri" is "celebration" so it's the flower celebration. MJ: Okay. SI: It's just like; I'm trying to think of the Japanese café over on 37th Street. I can't think of the name. Well, that's another story I guess because I can't remember what it is. SI: I'm very honored and pleased that you guys would take the time to do this because for me, as a Japanese, we just don't get this story out to the community because they are not aware that there was such a thing as J-town back in the day. The celebration that we put on in 2007, I chaired the thing and Raymond Uno, he was primarily the instigator of the whole thing and he did most of the 20 work, but he just used me as a centerpiece, I guess. The Japanese community, during probably ten years prior to the war and ten years after the war, it was predominant right there on 25th Street. So, if you're doing the 25th Street history, you've got to get that because we were very prominent during the late thirties and early forties. There were a lot of Japanese establishments and café and laundries and hotels and that kind of stuff. LR: You mentioned that when the railroad stopped going through that the businesses began to flounder away. Did that stop being J-town then? Or has it? SI: Actually, I would still have to say that it's there a little bit, but not as much. If you asked people of my age, they would immediately say, "Yes, J-town is gone, because there is really no Japanese establishment down there. There are two sushi bars down there, but they are both run by Chinese. I know the one very well. Tony is his name and his wife, Tina. The Tona restaurant, the name has been divided between the two. Tina is very, very presentable, as far as being the outgoing person at the restaurant, but this Tony guy, he took sushi making classes in San Francisco, so he does a very good job of emulating the Japanese custom and making sushi. There is a knack and in Japan, it isn't so much quantity as it is presentation. You've got to have a nice looking dish as far as the sushi is. It's got to be presentable to taste good. That's their theory. He's learned that very well in his presentations of sushi. There's a Chinese guy, two Mexicans and one white guy making the sushi for him. So, you can imagine, not one real Japanese there and the owner is Chinese, but he does a good job. In fact, he 21 always tells me, are you watching real closely, and I say, "Yeah I'm watching you guys." Not that I'm an expert. I just depend on my nationality to ride it a little bit. LR: Let me just ask you this final question. Is there anything else that you'd like to share about your time growing up on 25th Street or just the Japanese community as a whole that you'd like to share? SI: As probably an afterthought, but I am pleased that you would take the time to do this because the story of the Japanese community in Ogden really hasn't been exposed to the general public. Yes, the Japanese people know about it because we've lived it and grew up with it and so forth. Even the tape stuff that I've given you, please look at it and decide what you want to use and what you don't want to use. There is one document in there written by Raymond Uno, the one that I always tell is he's a judge and he's very good at writing stuff and that gives you a real good picture of the Japanese history from J-towns in the three communities I talked about and how it demised and where it went to. It's just a little snippet of the J-towns in Utah and it'll give you some very good history as far as what happened in Utah. My idea of the Japanese community growing up was, I was just a kid and went through all the regular stuff kids go through and never was very important or did anything important, but enjoyed my life to now and to have you guys take the time to do this, I appreciate it. LR: We appreciate your willingness to share. SI If you ever decide you want more input, I would like to get a couple or three guys that have gone through the Ogden growing up. Guys like Ray and Alice who actually went into an internment camp and maybe at some future date, we could 22 set an hour or two and you could pick their brain, if you would. I'd be glad to set something up like that if you're interested. MJ: Absolutely, we are. SI: Just give me a call and let me know and I could sure arrange that without any problem. Ray lives in Salt Lake and Alice lives here in Ogden. Maybe we three and maybe one or two more and you could fire questions like crazy. LR: I think we could definitely do something in the next little while, that would be fantastic. SI: It doesn't have to be immediate. A year down the line, six months down the line, just remind me who you are when you call. If you want something like that I would be more than happy to arrange that and we can go to the church, it has more room for three or four people. Or even at the college. The only trouble with going up to Weber is you'll never find a parking space. LR: Then when you find one you still have to walk a ways. SI: A mile or something. LR: And it's all uphill. SI: Hey, let me tell you about walking uphill, I used to live on Wall Avenue and went to Central which was on Monroe. We used to walk that sucker every day. I tell my kids that and they say, "Yeah, yeah, through five feet of snow." I'd say, "You got it." They never believed me. LR: That's the best part about telling your kids. Thank you so much, Mr. Ichida. We really appreciate it. 23

Part one of an interview with Julia Casey. Topics include: Julia's service as a clerk stenographer in the Civil Service Commission. Family history. Her parents came from Italy; her father was from Crenna and her mother was from Milan. The arranged marriage between her parents and their immigration to the United States. Her grandfather's work at a gas company in Italy. Her relatives worked in an embroidery business in Massachusetts. What it was like for Julia to grow up in Boston. Speaking proper Italian. What their neighborhood in Boston was like. The social club nearby. The foods people cooked and ate. The Christmas traditions of her family. How to prepare and serve polenta. Celebrations for patron saints. ; 1 LINDA: Okay. JULIA: All right. LINDA: So why don't I just start by saying this is Linda Rosenlund with the Center for Italian Culture at Fitchburg State College. It's Wednesday, November 16th, 2002. We're at the home of Julia Casey at 700 Pearl Street in Fitchburg. And Julia is just filling out the biographical information sheet, but I decided to turn the recorder on because she has some interesting anecdotes while she is writing. So she was just about to fill out the work history portion, and she began telling me that she worked for the War Department Chemical Warfare Services in Washington, DC, and you started 10 days after Pearl Harbor. JULIA: Yes. I had -- after high school, I had gone—and it's not noted here—to the stenotype school in Boston. And in the course of learning, they sent us to take a Civil Service Examination since [stenotypee] is a type, is machine shorthand. And in October, I took the [unintelligible - 00:01:13] Civil Service Examination in Boston, and then when the war broke out, I received a telegram to report to Washington by the 17th of December. And so 10 days after Pearl Harbor, I found myself at the War Department for assignment in the Civil Service Commission and the War Department. They sent me there, and then they assigned me to the Chemical Warfare Service as a clerk stenographer. LINDA: Does that mean it wasn't a choice? JULIA: No. No. There was no choice. They assigned you -- thousands of girls were pouring in from all over the country to, to man the increased offices for the War Department. The war was on, and every department in the government needed extra help, and so they took Civil Service Exams all over the country and the girls that were registered were sent telegrams to come in, and then they sent you wherever they needed you. So I worked there until I think October of 1944, and then I was transferred back to the Boston Procurement Office for the Chemical Warfare Service. LINDA: -kinds of things did you learn? 2 JULIA: It was straight stenographic work—filing, clerical, and stenographic work. I worked for a number of different people who dictated letters, and we typed them up and did general office work. LINDA: Were you ever learning anything interesting? JULIA: No. No, except the names of the various gases that they were using at the time, which was still pretty much what they had from World War I—mustard gas and things like that I haven't thought about it in years—but they had arsenals of gases all over the country. And so the correspondence mainly had to do with shipments and [unintelligible - 00:03:30] get into any of the research part at all. Men from major chemical corporations around the country came in to handle the government's program. Beyond that, we have no way of knowing. Things were either stamped secret or confidential. But the correspondence was so voluminous that things that came in, the regulations from the government had to all be filed and none of us did that and read anything like that. It was secret confidential, general -- you just filed it or you did whatever clerical work was assigned. LINDA: Obviously, war is such an uneasy time anyway. It must have been… JULIA: It was very exciting because we were young, and I eventually lived with four roommates in an apartment, and we worked almost six days a week. And because of the wartime, you didn't have as many things open to you. You couldn't visit the White House. For a long time, I never even got to see the Houses of Congress. We lived a very good life. We took care of our apartment. Each of the girls that I lived with, with whom I'm still closed friends, came from the different parts of the country except one who came from my own neighborhood. She lived with us. I lived with the girl from [unintelligible - 00:05:10], Missouri and a girl from Sunnyvale, California, and a girl that had come from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and we kept house, we shopped, we did laundry and we wanted to work in a 3 different agency and went to work with public transportation. We lived in Washington, and then we lived in Arlington, Virginia in an apartment. And we all came back to Boston together. We all arranged for transfers to various agencies in Boston. LINDA: Were you ever questioned about your Italian background? JULIA: No. I never was questioned. The questioning had to do with various organizations that you might have belonged to where they found your name. I mean, I was 18 years old when I left, so… And then I continued my Federal Civil Service until about seven months after I was married. LINDA: And that was in 1951? JULIA: 1950, yes. In April, I think I left my job, and I didn't work just for Chemical Warfare Service because after the war, they had what they call Reduction in Force, RIF. In other words, all the people that had been hired for the war were then let go, but you could go to other agencies that were getting rid of all of the stuff that the government had bought during the war, and one of the agencies I went to was the War Assets Administration in Boston. I forgot the name of the original name of the agency. They are in charge of reselling all of the machine tools that had been bought for the war plants, and New England was a very heavy industrial area for machine tools and machine and all kinds of things. So I went to work for the War Assets Administration, and then I think I put in sometime with one of the Air Force for terminal agencies here at the army base in Boston. And I was pregnant almost immediately after I was married, so I left in April of 1952. My first child was born in June of '52. LINDA: Are you okay? JULIA: Excuse me. I have a dry cough. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: [Unintelligible - 00:08:17] administration. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: I'll put CWS. That's the Chemical Warfare Service. LINDA: Okay.4 JULIA: And then War Assets Administration… and the Air Force. I still have all my papers, so I can check if we have to. And then I left in April. Our church, Catholic. That's all you want, isn't it? Or do you want… LINDA: Well, why don't you tell me where you go now? JULIA: All right. LINDA: -instead of Boston. JULIA: Okay, St. Camillus. LINDA: Okay. You have lived in Fitchburg since '68? JULIA: Yes. I've lived in Fitchburg since -- we moved here because my husband obtained the position of Director of the Library at Fitchburg State College in 1967, and he commuted about a year, and it was too much for him to commute to Boston. So, we had to sell -- we decided to sell our home, and we've lived here since March of 1968. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Okay. Social clubs, wow. All right, I was a member, and still am, actually, of the League of Women Voters. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Boston and Fitchburg. [Unintelligible - 00:10:07] Garden Club, where I was president for about four years. It's 1963, 1993, the June of [unintelligible - 00:10:30] Club. LINDA: I'm not familiar with that. JULIA: It's a Catholic layman's organization. I was actually the first woman admitted in the Fitchburg area. Would you mind opening the door? Letting the dog… LINDA: Oh okay. The dog is going to be [unintelligible - 00:10:48] with me now? JULIA: It's cold. She might just -- come on, sweetheart. Come, darling. Come on, Sasha. What a good [unintelligible - 00:10:59]. What a lovely dog! That would be on the tape. LINDA: That's okay. JULIA: All right. Let me…5 LINDA: What's that? JULIA: It's very cold in here because I turned down the heat, and the stove is not on. Let me just turn the heat up. Okay. Hold on. LINDA: Okay. What's the… JULIA: [Unintelligible - 00:11:24]. Ooh, my kids are [unintelligible - 00:11:29]. LINDA: Say what? JULIA: My [unintelligible - 00:11:33]. LINDA: Oh, who cares about things like that? Thanks for showing me all of the photographs. Julia just showed me the photographs that had been in her family since your mother passed away, I guess. What year was that? JULIA: My mother died in 1989 in Windsor, Vermont, because my sister owns a nursing home there and my mother went to live with her. But my mother lived alone on 11 and 13th Pompeii Street in Roxbury until she was 89 years old. My father had bought a six-family house on Pompeii Street, which originally was Lansdowne Street, and she lived in that house until she was 89 years old. Then she came to live with me for a year, and my sister took her up with her right after my son Steven's funeral in August of 1985. I treasure the artifacts, the furniture, and the pictures that I have. I have a whole collection of photographs from Italy which I'm hoping to organize before I die and so that the descendants will have some idea of who they came from. LINDA: Well, tell me a little bit about your parents. Were they born…? JULIA: My father was born in Crenna, Gallarate, C-R-E-N-N-A. It's a small town or village, and it's right above the city of Gallarate, G-A-L-L-A-R-A-T-E, which is a part of the Malpensa Airport in Milan. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: They are Lombards. My mother was born -- Lombardi is the province. My mother was born in Milan on December 5th, 1893. My father was born in Crenna, Gallarate on January 30th, 1891. And the family had lived there for a number of generations, and there are records in the church in Crenna. 6 LINDA: And their last names? Your father's last name is… JULIA: [Tomasine]. LINDA: Tomasine. JULIA: Yeah. LINDA: Mother's? JULIA: Seminario, and it was an arranged marriage. LINDA: So tell me a little bit about that. Did your mother tell you that was an arranged marriage, or…? JULIA: Most Italian women had to have the approval of their families before they married. It's a little complicated. When my father was an infant, a young girl baby was… I do not know the circumstances. She was assigned, she was asked -- no, that's wrong. She was given to my grandmother in Crenna, who was at the time nursing my papa. In other words, she was a nursing mother. And oftentimes when babies were either abandoned or the mother died or was too ill to take care of them, they were given to a nursing mother, who brought that child up along with the child she was nursing. In other words, she became a wet nurse. And if she had sufficient milk—since there were no formulas or bottles at the time—then she nursed both children. And this little girl, whose name was Carolina, she was brought up with my father until she was 18 years old. And then she was given her freedom, her choice to do whatever she wished, and at that time of course, girls, they went to work or they married. And she went to Milan to work, and she met one of my mother's uncles and married him, and as a result of this marriage, the two families were connected, not by blood, but because this girl had been raised with my father. And they have a child of their own, a little girl. And when the little girl was 9 years old, when [unintelligible - 00:17:15] was 9 years old, Carolina, her mother, died. And at the funeral, 7 which was during World War I, my mother went and my father went, because they were from the two families. My father went because she was called his sister of the milk, [foreign language - 00:17:45] de latte. That means that his mother nursed the two of them together, [unintelligible - 00:17:52] de latte. It was quite common, if there was no other way for these little babies to survive. Many women didn't have enough milk to feed their children, and my mother told me that in Milan, there were professionals wet nurses, and they used to come into the city on trams from the surrounding villages, and they wore special headdresses so they were recognized as women who were going to nurse babies in private homes. And this was their profession as long as they could. They would go to the home of somebody who could afford it and nurse a child whose mother is not able to feed a child, and they were honored. They were very respected women, recognized. They used to come in on the trolley cars into the city. And so I thought that was a very interesting thing. I have never heard of it myself. But I know I had another aunt on my father's side who went to South America and who could not nurse her first child and took her to a wet nurse in the country to nurse, to be fed. So it was not an uncommon situation at all. LINDA: So now your parents got connected at the… JULIA: They're only connected -- it's not a blood relationship. LINDA: Right. JULIA: It was marriage. And… LINDA: So you were telling me that it was arranged. JULIA: Yes. When my father came, my father came to America in 1912 with two brothers, two brothers were here, but America was a very tough place to be if you didn't speak English, and he didn't have any high skills. My father was trained as an embroiderer, because that was his father's cottage 8 industry in my [unintelligible - 00:20:23] in Crenna. But he couldn't get that kind of work in America, and so he did heavy laboring, washed dishes and did anything he could. And being the oldest son, when the family in Italy needed him, he went back, but he went back unfortunately in 1914. I think he told me that he went back in April, and in August the war broke out. And his youngest brothers were taught in the Italian army, and his two brothers in America joined the American army. So there were two brothers in the Italian army in the infantry and two boys who had a wonderful time in the American army and never was sent overseas. So when his sister of the milk died, then he met my mother at that funeral, but right after the war's conditions in Italy were very bad, he came back to America in 1919. And he felt that he was then about 26, 27 years old, and he felt that it was time to settle down, and he wrote to his mother. And his mother arranged with my mother's father and asked my mother if she would like to go to America to marry her son. And my mother agreed even though she didn't know him and had only met him at that one time, and so she came to America. LINDA: Did she come by herself? JULIA: No. Italian women did not come by themselves, unlike the Irish, who did. She came with -- by this time, the two boys, Vincent and Peter Tomasine, who were in the United States, decided that they wanted their mother to come. My grandparents were separated at that time, and so they made arrangements. One son Vincent had a girlfriend in Italy that he had more or less grown up with, and he sent for her. And then my uncle Peter and -- let's see, my grandmother came. They sent for their mother and Maria [unintelligible - 00:23:12], who married Vincent, and then my grandmother brought her youngest daughter, Mary, who was not married, and she brought her son-in-law, Angelo [unintelligible - 00:23:25], who 9 was married to my father's sister and had gone back to Italy from South America during the war. And after the war, he wanted to come to America. But the men always came first. So he came with his mother-in-law, who was my grandmother. LINDA: So your father returned in 1919. How long did he take him to save enough money to send for these? JULIA: Well, he worked very hard and the passage was very cheap, and so he sent money for them and sponsored my mother. And when she came here, they were married. There wasn't any big ceremony or anything like that. They lived with his mother and Maria [unintelligible - 00:24:24], who then married my uncle Vincent, and my father's youngest sister, Mary, Maria, and his brother-in-law until they all got settled. They lived in Roxbury in a flat. And then… LINDA: And what year was this that your mother came over JULIA: It was 1920 and '21, 1921. She arrived on October 12th in New York the same day, because she always said she came the same time as Christopher Columbus, on October 12th, 1921. By the way, I have a tape here that I -- of a family history that I wrote up in 1981, and we played it at Christmastime. And the whole story is on this tape. LINDA: Oh, interesting. JULIA: As far as I can remember—and I don't vouch for extreme accuracy in anything, because by that time, my mother was pretty well along in years in the late '70s. And she was 80. My mother and I, I went to Italy for the first time when I was 50 years old in August -- September of 1973. I went back with my mother, and I was in time to meet her brother, Raymundo Clemente, her brother, Umberto. His name was Umberto Seminario, the father of the boy who was lost in the Second World War, and his wife Osana, and my mother's half sister, Anna. And I say half sister because my mother's mother died at the age of 25 from consumption, when my mother was only four years old and her brother was two. And my grandfather, Raymundo Seminario had to remarry. He married within six 10 months so that he could keep his two children. Then there were two girls born of that marriage. LINDA: Did you mention the name Clemente? JULIA: Clemente was my grandfather, Raymundo Clemente Juliano Seminario. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Yeah, three names. And sometimes they call him Clemente. Sometimes they call him Raymundo. But I was named for him, and my brother was named for him. LINDA: Well, that brings up an interesting point. I see that your name is spelled J-U-L-I-A, and Italian… JULIA: They Americanized it. LINDA: … didn't have J. JULIA: Yes. They don't have a J. LINDA: So when did that happen? JULIA: Probably when the birth certificate was sent into city hall. I was born at home, and the doctors who came in attendance didn't speak any Italian, and so they just put down what they heard phonetically. My brother and sister, all of us were born at home. So the records at city hall were just deplorable. They're awful. Then, of course, when we were baptized, then the names were different even on those baptismal records, which I have, because then we were baptized in the Italian churches in Boston. LINDA: So let me get back to the birth certificate. It's been my experience where the birth certificate actually has the Italian name, but it's later in school. Not yours? JULIA: No. I'd have to look it up, and you know, I'd have to look it up. But I think that the birth certificate -- it might be. LINDA: Well, it's just interesting that you [unintelligible - 00:28:52] change. JULIA: I also have my mother's, her brother's, and their half sister's report cards from their Italian elementary school in Milan, Italy, all signed by their father, my grandfather. I have it right around the corner. They're in the back.11 LINDA: Very interesting. JULIA: I went to visit the schools that they attended when I went to Milan. LINDA: So now your experience seems very different from many of the Italian Americans that I have, and their family is situated [unintelligible - 00:29:33] north. JULIA: Yes. Yes. Most of the Italian immigrants were from the central and southern part of Italy. From the north, the population there was more educated, and there was more industry, so jobs were plentiful unless, like in my grandfather's case, you had an industry where he was an embroiderer at many areas that have cottage industries. He worked out of his own home, and he was not a particularly good business man. So when the wars came along and he lost a lot of money, building an apartment house, so the boys decided that they would all come to America. LINDA: But they actually left the first time before the war. JULIA: Yes. Three of them came before the war, and my father was the only one that went back because he was the oldest son, and he must received word that things were not going well at home. And so he went back to help out for a time, but then after the -- he had to go into combat. Then when he came back after the war, things were not much better, and he joined his brothers in America again. LINDA: What did your mother's people do for…? JULIA: My grandfather started at the age of eight carrying bricks. He came from a large family in [unintelligible - 00:31:20], which is in Lombardi. It's the same town where Mother Cabrini was born. She was a modern Italian saint. And because child labor was very common, he went to school to learn to read and write, but then he got a job carrying bricks to build the gas company, and I just recently found out that the gas company in Milan was built by a French firm. 12 And so after the building was built, he got a job in the company. I don't know what he was doing, but he probably started out by shoveling coal or whatever. They made gas out of burning coal. And eventually, he worked his way up in the company until at the age of 54, he was in charge of sending out the gas to the entire city of Milan. They had huge gasometers in which they stored the prepared gas, and it's very strange because when my mother and father bought their house in Roxbury right across Massachusetts Avenue, which was the main street outside—their street connected to Massachusetts Avenue—there was a huge gasometer meter that was owned by the Boston Gas Company. And so all of my early life, I saw the same huge gasometer that my grandfather was a part of in Milan. LINDA: Interesting. JULIA: Right. It's gone now, as they put in the southeast expressway. They took it away, and they have different -- now they bring the gas in by pipeline, so they don't store it. LINDA: Did you ever have any discussions with your parents about the fact that it was an arranged marriage, or was it just so common then? JULIA: It was very common. You married people that you were introduced to, or there wasn't any of this thing of going out on dates. The expression in Northern Italy for a couple who were interested in each other was [foreign language - 00:34:04], meaning they speak to each other. That was the expression. They stayed in groups. They're amongst the families, and a gentleman, once a young man was interested in a girl, his only access was through her family. LINDA: Now, what brought your father to Boston? JULIA: Because his brothers were here and he figured he could -- he was very, very nervous. After the war, he came back in a very light post -- what do they call it? LINDA: Post-traumatic syndrome? JULIA: Post-traumatic… LINDA: Syndrome, I think.13 JULIA: They didn't call it that at the time, but he couldn't stay at home. And so, he came here and he did mostly have [unintelligible - 00:35:04] for the rest of his life. LINDA: But initially, when he came in 1912 with his brothers, what brought them to Boston? JULIA: Because they -- the Italians had started coming to America around 1890, 1888-1890, and the word got back that you could earn a living, and his brothers happened to be there. They had an aunt, their father's sister, Luisa Milani, came around 1880 or 1890, and she was married to a man who was a stonecutter, and of course, marble and granite. They have quarries in Massachusetts and Vermont, and her husband was a stonecutter. In fact, he died of silicosis. And these men were skilled laborers, and they worked in -- where they made cemetery monuments and they carved, they quarried stone for buildings. So their aunt was here, and they have to have someone to sponsor them. So my first two uncles came under her sponsorship, and so did my father under her sponsorship. Then a younger brother came around 1928. He had remained in Italy after the war. He was the youngest, and he came later than they did. And he became an automobile mechanic, a very skilled one. So that's right. And then my father, he bought these two houses for $1,700 apiece, and his brother Vincent gave him a down payment to put down so he could get settled. They bought homes almost immediately after they arrived. LINDA: Is this on Lansdowne, which later became Pompeii Street? JULIA: Yes. Well, my father did, and then his two brothers bought homes in other places. And his brother Vincent started up the same family embroidery business that he was -- that was his trade the rest of his life. He had a factory in [unintelligible - 00:37:36] where he did a great deal of 14 [wobbler], the embroidered patches that they used to distinguish outfits and military units and all types of things like that. LINDA: What's the name of that company? Do you know? JULIA: It was Vincent Tomasine Embroideries. And in fact later, after the war, long after the war, he sold it to someone else. LINDA: I'm wondering why your father didn't… JULIA: He couldn't stand it. After the way, he couldn't stand indoor work. He just couldn't. He was too nervous, and the business of course was run very differently from what his father had run in Italy, a one-man shop, whereas my uncle, all of my aunts went to work for my uncle, and they would get contracts. Say, women will embroidered slips and embroidered underwear, and the manufacturers in Boston that were making rayon, nylons, shorts would send -- they would stitch up the fronts of the slips, then they would send them by the box-loads to my uncle, who would put them on frames and do the embroideries on the front, then they went back to the factories to be re-stitched, to be stitched and completed. So he did all the embroidery, work whether it was blouses, whether it was slips, whether it was anything else that had to be done. As I said, during the war, it was military patches. LINDA: Now, about your mantle, you have a beautiful piece of embroidery. Who did that? JULIA: My mother. Because her mother had died so young from consumption, my grandfather refused to allow his daughters to work in large factories, in a factory. He didn't want them to do factory work. And so at that time, clothing was made almost custom. They didn't have huge factories that churned them all by the thousands, and fine clothing for girl who was going to be married, her [foreign language - 00:40:00] was made out of fine cloth and linen. And there were many, many -- again, it's a type of cottage industry, but small shops that were girls that were hired for this skill in stitching and 15 attaching tucking, attaching waist, and my mother worked in a place where they made shirts, and all kinds of skilled work was done by hand on single machines. And then every year for the month, they were allowed to vacation. My grandfather took them to the mountains, and that's still customary today. Every summer, most of the Italians go off to the mountains of the seashore for vacation. They believe in that. Most of them can afford to do that. If they can't, then they go away for a week or two. LINDA: So let's talk more about Boston. What was it like living on Lansdowne Street? JULIA: We loved it. It was a good street, and the same people that lived there when I was a child, the girls that grew up with me, other than one or two who have died, are still my friends. I still maintain contact even though they might have been a year or two younger or older, that contact with those families have never really been broken. There were about 60 families on two streets in a very -- they were part of [war day], but they were off of Massachusetts Avenue near the south end of Boston, although it was officially Roxbury. And all of the landlords on those two streets were Italian, and they came from all parts of Italy from the Piedmont to Lombardi down to Abruzzo down to the southern part all the way to Sicily. LINDA: Yeah. JULIA: So I grew up learning many dialects, hearing many dialects, and my mother kept in touch. She wrote letters to her family and friends in Italy and relatives until she couldn't see anymore 65 years later. So I would see my mother sitting there late at night, midnight, writing to Italy, and then the letters would come back and… LINDA: Did she save those?16 JULIA: No. I did it. She didn't. I saved quite a few. I have quite a lot, and as a matter of fact, one of my mother's girlfriends, [unintelligible - 00:43:10], I think, married a man named [unintelligible - 00:43:18], and her descendants lived in a part of Milan, and our children, which would represent the fourth generation, this lady's grandfather worked with my grandfather at the Milan Gasworks. And my mother kept in touch all those years with his daughter, with her friend, because they were neighbors. LINDA: Let me just slide you hand through here. Okay. JULIA: And my daughters and my sister's daughters had gone to Italy after college and met them and stayed with them. So there were four generations whose friendship has stood the test of time. LINDA: That's remarkable. JULIA: They came to visit two years ago, and I've been there to visit twice with my mother. LINDA: So what was it like when you went back? JULIA: It was like déjà vu. I knew everyone that my mother introduced me to. I'm very fluent in the dialect, which is very seldom spoken now anymore, because after Mussolini came in, one of the ways that he tried to unify the country of Italy was to insist that they all speak proper Italian, whereas everyone who came to America during the '20s and before spoke the dialect of their own region, or their own village. In fact, many people on Pompeii Street could not understand my parents. No one could if they spoke in the Lombard dialect, because it was so different. LINDA: How did they communicate? JULIA: Because they did have a common -- they could speak in proper Italian. Many of them had gone to school. And I mean, they could -- if they went to school in Italy, then they could read Italian, but there was a common thread. It was very difficult though, because they usually never spoke in proper Italian. But the southern Italian spoke closer to the proper language.17 LINDA: The southern? JULIA: Yeah. The southern and central ones, they spoke in a manner that was a little bit closer, closer to proper Italian. And my mother wrote in proper Italian, and most of them have had elementary school educations so that they could communicate with their families in Italy. LINDA: Did your parents learn English? JULIA: Yes, they did. My father could read the American paper. They listened to the news on the radio, and of course, we grew up and went to school in America. And my mother was forced. It was very, very difficult adjustment because she frequently misunderstood what I said in English, and it made for a great deal of friction until enough years went by that my youngest sister came along 13 years after I did. By that time, my sister came to understand the Italian because in the family, my mother and father still spoke in dialect and all of my aunts and uncles, the same dialect. So we got it through hearing it. It wasn't until I went back to Italy the first time in 1973 that we went back for three or four weeks, and it was the first time that I had what you call an immersion, where everybody spoke proper Italian and I suddenly understood. Like a person who plays the piano by ear, I understood the Italian. And then, when I went back in '76 with my mother and sister, again I was exposed to about three weeks or so, or a month, of everyone speaking proper Italian, except in mountain villages, where I visited with my mother—they still spoke dialect. And of course, I was fluent, and I still am. LINDA: So let me see though. Do I understand this correctly? Your mother spoke the dialect, but she came to… JULIA: But she could read and write proper Italian. LINDA: Right. So when she returned, and people were speaking more proper…18 JULIA: Right. But we only did family visiting. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: And so everyone she could understand because she could write and she had learned proper Italian. And my mother remembered the lyrics, the words to the songs she had learned from nursery school. She was sent to nursery school. Remember, my grandfather remarried, and his second wife had two babies. And nursery school, [foreign language - 00:49:00], it was called. [Foreign language - 00:49:04] is the proper Italian word. And they had very fine nursery school for children, and so my mother and her brother and sister were sent to nursery school, and -- my mother told me a very interesting thing. Up until she was 15 years old and went to this private Catholic school that was run by the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in Milan, even then, they had a woman who was referred to as [foreign language - 00:49:43]. And I haven't exactly known how to spell it, but a woman accompanied all these children to all their homes. The school was not far from their homes, but the children were accompanied to their homes by a lady. Even when she was 15 years old, someone accompanied all these students to their homes. LINDA: So when they walked home… JULIA: Right. Unless the parents came to get them; and if they couldn't, then somebody took them home. LINDA: Wow. So getting back to Boston, do you have all of these different regions where they are different Italians… from different regions is what I mean… JULIA: And all we young girls, all of us, we would play together, and then we would compare how our mother said things, how we would, you know, be there laughing, and then we [unintelligible - 00:50:48]. My mother said it like this. My mother said it like that. And all of us learned the different dialects, or they understood them even if they didn't try to speak them. 19 We had an awful lot of fun. We played on the street. We played street games. We learned to dance on the street. Our mothers taught us to crochet and embroider. That was another way that we passed the time. And the mothers, because this was small street, when the housework was done or the middle of the day, they came out, and when they weren't arms akimbo leaning out of their windows, they were down in the doorways, and we were watched all our lives, all of those young years. Somebody was always watching and looking out on the street, so nobody got away with anything. LINDA: Now, do the mothers socialize together? JULIA: Yes, they visited each other's little lots. As I said, I think I counted one time; there might have been 60 flats. It's still in existence, that neighborhood. But it's been bought by a developer. In fact, my brother still owns my father's house. He doesn't live there, but he still owns it. LINDA: So you had all different kinds of generations… JULIA: And all different kinds of cooking and all different generations; and when they died, they were waked in the apartments. They were not waked in funeral homes. Many children were born on the street, so we saw it all. We experienced it all. And young people died. I had two friends who were wonderful, lost a sister. Both of them lost sisters at 21 years old, and the whole street was born. It was complete support from everyone, because these girls had been -- one died in childbirth at 21 years old, and the other one died from apparently a blood clot just after some surgery. And everyone went to Boston City Hospital because we were only five minutes away from it. LINDA: Were the mourning traditions different between different regions? JULIA: They wore black. Some of them never took off that black. Even in the north end, most women who lost their husbands would wear black for the rest of their lives unless they remarried. Some of them did the same thing 20 on my street; if they lost their husbands they wore black housedresses. It was just the custom. But several children died, two of them from spinal meningitis, which at that time was fatal. And I think one was nine and one was 14. And of course, women, they mourned. They wept. They cried. That was a terrible thing. It was a part of life, and they didn't try to gloss over it. They lost a child in childbirth. You could hear them sometimes screaming from the pain even though doctor might come, an intern might come from Boston City Hospital. I remember that one of my friends' mother gave birth, and she lived on the third floor across the street. It must have been an extremely painful experience. My mother was marking the floor gray-faced, remembering her own. LINDA: So there was very little privacy. JULIA: The flat was small, and there was very little privacy. We knew who got along, who didn't get along. And some of them, even though they came from the old country, if things got too bad, they will separate. But for the most -- and the women as they got older, our parents, not my mother -- my mother went to work during the Depression when my father had an accident and broke his leg. He couldn't go to work. My mother went to work at the army base stitching uniforms. But it was only for a short time. As soon as my father was well enough to go back to work, then she had to stay home. LINDA: … in that area generally help each other? JULIA: To some extent. I will say this. When the Depression came, even though we lived in an industrial neighborhood, there were many pieces of vacant land. We have no idea who belonged to them, whether they were city owned land or belong to the neighboring factories. We had two very huge laundries which are still in existence. They were linen services. They 21 serviced hotels, restaurants. They did that kind of thing, places that used a lot of uniforms. So the girls who were brought up just ahead of me, many of them went to work in the laundry. I did too for a short time, while I went to night school after high school, and then as I said, when I passed the civil service exam, then I went to Washington. And after that, I did office work. But as the women grew older and their children were out of high school, many of them went to work either in the laundry or in a box factory. But during the Depression, every family sectioned off some small piece of these vacant lots and grew gardens. That was natural for them; even my father had an enormous garden from a piece of land that was vacant near our home. And according to my sister—this was while I was in Washington—and my mother, he just grew marvelous vegetables. Everybody grew, even in their backyards. No piece of land went to waste. So I never knew anyone who went hungry during the Depression. They would find jobs for each other. You just have to let -- they worked for private contractors, and Italian contractors were making their way up succeeding the Irish. So if my father was out of a job, he would notify the Italian men in the neighborhood and somebody would find him a job. LINDA: Now, did you notice that these people from different regions, did they kind of stick together? JULIA: Yes, they did. They [unintelligible - 00:58:30] somebody bought houses close together and lived in -- and people from the Piedmont occupied apartments kind of close together. But it was a tiny street. It was very small. So you were all -- you just grew up together. And as the women, as the families lived there longer 22 and longer, they got closer to each other, so they learned to respect each other. LINDA: What do you think the unifying factor would be, would have been? JULIA: The fact that they were all immigrants, and that they were locked into these -- they were a part of this small neighborhood. So you have to get -- men played bocce at the end of the street. Then they set up a social club. A few of the men from Abruzzo belonged to the Sons of Italy. And in the summertime, they would have a bus come to the street, and all the Italians who wanted to would bring watermelons and macaroni and meatballs and Italian bread and cheese and salami. If you want to tour, you can get on the bus and they would go to public parks where the Sons of Italy would have a big day. There would be a dance pavilion. They would dance to all this Italian music and have picnics, and the young kids would let them go [unintelligible - 01:00:15]. LINDA: Now, did people growing up here, did they begin their own social clubs depending on regions? JULIA: No. There was just one, and most of them were… I think the ones that belong to it mostly were from the Abruzzo. My father belonged to it a little while, but he wasn't really active. But there were quite a few families from the Abruzzo region of Italy and they belong. And they drank wine; they made wine in the house. The grapes would come into Charlestown, Massachusetts on the trains, and every October they would go to Charlestown and they would order a truckload of grapes. Then they would borrow grinders—my father did too—and grind the grapes. They might make a [unintelligible - 01:01:08] with boxes of grapes and make wine. So whenever you went to visit then [unintelligible - 01:01:16] you were an adult, they always offer you a glass of wine. Everybody's cooking was different because they came from different regions. My mother never learned to make what we refer to at the time as pasta [foreign language -23 01:01:33]. But today it's knows as spaghetti and meatballs. My mother had to learn after she came to America. That was not part of our Italian food culture at all. My mother came -- Milan is near a rice-growing area. So in Northern Italy, you eat cornmeal, polenta, and rice were the staples, soups. But in Southern Italy, they were used to for special occasions, they would -- it was always with tomato sauce that was the standard pasta with tomato sauce. Very seldom, they eat rice. None of us ate much meat. Meat was eaten very sparingly. In the Lombard region, the main dish which is now becoming, and again, has become very, very popular is called risotto. That was one of the staples that I grew up with. And the holidays, we had -- at that time, some of the delicacies that are important today were not important. Things like [foreign language - 01:03:10] was not important, but my mother told us about the Christmas customs in her home. She always mentioned this [foreign language - 01:03:19]. Now you can buy it anywhere. They import it, because the fly it in, and we had special things that we ate on holidays. And my mother told us about the Christmas customs of her family. LINDA: So was that a strong tradition on Christmas Eve celebration? JULIA: Christmas Eve was considered even by the Church as a day of fasting and abstinence. Christmas Eve, when I was growing up, was a non-meat day, and amongst the Italians, who were not accustomed to dairy anyway, they use cheese. But on Christmas Eve, you ate neither milk products nor meat. You ate fish. Now, the southern and central Italians would celebrate. They might cook six or seven, in some families, 12 different kinds of fish dishes. In my family, we observe Christmas Eve very quietly with no kind of celebration at all. The next day on Christmas, then we would have -- we might have polenta, which I made this Christmas, by the way. 24 LINDA: Oh, you did. JULIA: Yes. LINDA: Now, how did you serve it? JULIA: I plugged in? LINDA: You are. Just having system -- hang on. Okay. JULIA: Polenta is made—and I can assure you because I still have a package of flour there. You can buy it today under the Goya brand; it's the only place I find it. But in my father's day, you went to the various Italian markets and they would have barrels of it, and you bought course ground corn flour, cornmeal, and then you just put it into -- I still have my parents' cup of polenta pot. Everybody brought their polenta pot from Italy. It was called, in the dialect, the parieu. LINDA: How do you spell it? Do you know? JULIA: Parieu, P-A-R-I-E-U. It's how you pronounced it. That's in Lombard dialect. LINDA: And that's the polenta pot. JULIA: Right. Let's see, how did they say it in Italy? Paiolo is the proper Italian word, I think, if I can find it in here. Paiolo, P-A-I-O-L-O or P-A-I-U-O-L-O; it's a boiler, a copper, a cauldron, a kettle, that they used for polenta. LINDA: So how did your family used to serve the polenta? JULIA: The polenta was made in this copper pot that had a rounded bottom designed to hang from a crane on a fireplace. Because in Italy, they didn't have stoves, not even my mother's family, who lived in an apartment in the city, had a stove; they had small gas light burners. But if you have -- we have kitchen rangers, black iron ranges, and they would remove the round top on one section of it in the front where the fire was farthest, and boil a certain amount of water when you have much water to boil. And then you very, very slowly added the cornmeal. You added salt, maybe a little piece of garlic, and you slowly add in the cornmeal. 25 Now, one person has to hold the pot so it wouldn't tip over. And my father, that was my father's job, to stir that cornmeal until it was very thick and firm, and used an old piece of broomstick to do this, a [canalla], a piece of stick, like a piece of broomstick. Then when it was very firm, they would put down a cutting board, a piece of board on the table, cover it with a flour sack that had been -- a clean dishcloth. They used to make dishcloths out of flour sacks, the women, unbleached muslin. And my father would take that big kettle of polenta and dump it over on top of this cloth and then cover it. Then they use the string to cut it. You cut it because it would slice down with the string. And I've met many people in Fitchburg who remembered that same system of cooking polenta and cutting it with the string and dumping it over onto something. And we served it with various kinds of stew. Now, the southern and central Italians would most likely serve it with a meat ragout or Italian tomato sauce that they might use for any pasta dish. We served it with a stew that was called cassoeula, very difficult to spell, C-A-S-S-O-E-U-L-A. It was made from savoy cabbage, Italian sausages, spare ribs, and cooked with carrots and onions and garlic into light -- but no tomatoes, celery, into this wonderful stew, and I made it this Christmas. So from now on, as long as I'm alive, that's what we'll have for Christmas, and that's what we ate. Or they would make a rabbit… make a stew out of rabbit or chicken. But that's how we ate it. Then my father would eat it with gorgonzola cheese. And the next day, you sliced it and cut it and fried it with eggs for lunch or supper. I had an uncle, an old uncle, who lived with me after he was widowed, and he used to slice it the next day and layer it with milk and onions and bake it. And you can use polenta like you can use potatoes or rice with anything. It's delicious. My Irish husband loves it. Right, the kids love it. And you can make it out of a Quaker oats cornmeal too, but I don't like it as well as I 26 do the coarse meal. It has become quite popular again in upscale restaurants. LINDA: Now, when your mother would serve it on the board at the table, did… JULIA: Yeah. Put your dish there, and my father would take the string and the slice would fall on to the dish, then she'd serve the stew from the bowl or the pan. LINDA: I've also heard of people in Fitchburg, their mother would lay it out on the board, and then everyone would kind of eat it… JULIA: I have all that. Now, the first one I met since I've been here that tells me that, but I have a very close friend whose parents have 13 children, and the father made a big, long table to accommodate them. They lived in my father's, one of my father's flats, and when they made the polenta and the tomato sauce, he would lay it out on this table, and every child would have, every person would have a section and would eat with his fork or spoon, then they would put the tomato sauce over it. Right. LINDA: That's interesting. JULIA: Right. LINDA: So now, living with all these different regions or people from regions, were there different patron saints or celebrations? JULIA: A lot of them had relatives in the north end, and the north end was really the center of the Italian religious community, and so some of them would visit their relatives on feast days. Some of the Sicilian women who had relatives in the north end, they would go to the north on feast days. But we didn't do that. They would celebrate the feast days now that I think of it by cooking special foods, and a lot of them have like little [plaster] saints, and they would always keep votive candles, which was strange. They were little wicks that floated, little wicks, and you lit the wick, and they'd have like some kind of maybe a little asbestos washer, some little washer. I haven't seen those for 50-60 years. I haven't seen them. But I remembered the women used to keep -- a lot of the Southern Italian 27 women would keep votive lights. They would pray for their families and pray for good health, and they were attached to devotions to these different saints, or St. Joseph or the Virgin Mary, and they would keep little votive lights. I'm trying to think what -- they didn't have racks in them, but I don't know what the liquid was in these -- I mean, they still have the same candleholders. I got them on my dining room table right there, but they didn't have -- I don't remember the candles. I remember these little wicks./AT/jf/lk/es