Steven E. Schanes
May 21, 2000
Chapter 9

Montclair State Teachers College
December 1941-February, 1943

Pearl Harbor
Of course everything changed for us on Sunday, December 7, 1941. We were seated at lunch at Russ Hall when we heard the news of the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. It seemed totally impossible. From the beginning it was clear that tremendous damage had been done to our navy, yet we could not believe it. The United States never lost in war. No one would dare to attack us. Yet it had been done. We were dazed, angry, frustrated. In one short moment, everything was changed. We listened to the radio intently. Classes were excused the next day. We heard President Roosevelt speak of the “dastardly attack that will go down in infamy.” We were going to war. The Congress declared war against Japan and immediately, Adolf Hitler declared that Germany was at war with the United States. Suddenly we were directly involved all over the world.

As an aside, I had been listening to a George Gershwin composition on the radio just before we heard the news of Pearl Harbor. For that reason, and another that I’ll speak about later, I have never listened to George Gershwin’s music on a Sunday. During my life I have had a number of little superstitions, but this is the only one I have kept faithfully.

It was clear that our lives were going to change dramatically. Yet there was nothing that we college students could do immediately. Our anxiety was eased by a general announcement that the government wanted us to stay in college and that a number of alternatives would be made available to us. In due time, we would be given various opportunities to serve our country.

From December 7,1941 through August 28,1943, I was extremely fatalistic about my chances of surviving the war. Many years before, I had had a dream that on August 28, 1943, I would be in an army uniform, in a wartime trench, with an enemy tank coming directly at me. Now, the sequence of events seemed to be bearing out my dream. With so short a time seemingly left, I began looking for other experiences.

My parents had sold the candy store in Maplewood in October, 1941. Never having traveled outside of New Jersey and New York, they decided to take a cross-country trip in their little car. This would be their first vacation in many years. They set out in the first week of December. For some reason, they started by going south and they had reached South Carolina when they heard the news of Pearl Harbor. They immediately turned back and came home. Shortly thereafter, they bought a candy store in Nutley, New Jersey. They lived right above the store. This turned out to be a bad buy, both from a financial and personal standpoint. The store was barely profitable, in fact the pinball machine was the major source of income. Because of the pinball machine, the store was filled by noisy kids and the noise easily carried upstairs, making it difficult to nap or get any rest until very late at night. On the few times that I came home, I was very uncomfortable with the situation.

Getting Ready For War
As we began the Spring, 1942 semester, an entirely new attitude took over Montclair State Teachers College. Course work was being re-arranged so that we could complete as much as possible before being called into military service. A full range of courses would be offered in the Summer. It was clear that the senior men would be going directly into service upon being graduated in May. The war was constantly on our minds, especially since our forces were taking such a bad beating from the Japanese. We lost the Philippines. The British navy, which had seemed invincible, lost Singapore and several major battleships. The possibility of a direct attack on the United States loomed very large in our minds.

There were several different military programs available, each of which promised that we could first finish college. I was attracted to the Army Air Corps because: (1) A book “Victory Through Air Power” demonstrated that airplanes would win the war; (2) Jimmy Stewart made some air corps promotional movies that looked good, and (3) I didn’t like the idea of walking or of being at sea.

After I turned 18 in January, I went to a local recruiting office and took the Army Air Corps entrance exam. There were about fifty of us in the room. The multiple-choice exam covered a wide range of college subjects, including Physics, which I had never had. However, in looking at the Physics test, I saw a relationship between some of the later questions and early answers- and got a fairly high grade in that subject. I was the third person to finish the exam. Sitting outside with the boy who had finished first, I learned that he had never been to college. I urged him to do so when the war was over. His name was Larry Campbell and after the war, he did come to MSTC, was graduated and ultimately taught math as a colonel at the Air Force Academy.

Having passed the entrance exam, I next was interviewed by an Army sergeant. He asked me a number of questions that had to do with flying, none of which I answered correctly. For example, he had me to look at an electric fan and answer whether the blades were the same as an airplane’s propeller. I had no idea. He then asked me to describe different types of airplanes and I said that there were some with one wing and some with two wings. Somehow none of this stood in my way. I was accepted and I took the “Oath of Office”. The sergeant affirmed that I would not be called up until I had completed college. I was now in the second half of my sophomore year, so that I would not be called up for two and a half years, that is in June, 1944.

It seemed to me that this was a golden opportunity to re-arrange my course load so that I could get my major subjects completed early and then I could relax with teaching courses during my last year. Except for the Dean of Men, Finley, a hard-nosed, acidic type who thought that I was trying to get away with something, the college administration and faculty were obliging.

Another Defining Moment
During the Spring of 1942, a very small happening changed my life dramatically. I had received some award or recognition and Jennie Polizzi, who worked with me on The Montclarion, said to me, “I am so happy for you.” I was completely taken aback by this. I realized that it would never have occurred to me to say those words to anyone else. In fact, most of the time I was jealous of anyone else’s achievements. I examined myself and my behavior and it became very clear to me that I was extremely self-centered and immature. From that moment forward I began to try to be more of a “people person”, concerned for others and sharing in their experiences.

The Summer of ‘42
That Summer, I stayed at school, taking a number of easy two-unit classes. One of these was a flying course. Each Saturday, a group of us would drive to “Forty Fort”- a place in Pennsylvania, where we would be given flying lessons in an old Piper Cub. I was totally scared every time we got into the air. Our instructor got the idea that I had natural flying instincts, while all the time I was just hanging on for dear life. Somehow I thought that when I actually got into the Air Corps the fear would leave me. Also taking the course was Russell Reed, who became a life-long friend.

During the Summer of ’42, Eli London was my roommate. We had a wonderful time, with class work having a very low priority. At some point, we decided to write a musical comedy, in collaboration with another student, John Frascatore, who was an excellent pianist and composer,. Our idea was that our play would be performed by college students to raise money to help the war effort. We agreed on a general plot and a name: “Trenchwald Has It!” and set about writing each evening. Meanwhile, another student became the Director and began testing applicants for the various parts. The assistant director decided to help us be creative and he came to our room and slept as we worked. As we turned out copy, the cast began rehearsing. At the same time, the advertising staff began turning out announcements that were posted around the campus. It was an exciting time and, of course, we laughed more than we wrote. Unfortunately- or more likely, very fortunately- the military intervened. We lost our leading man and it was clear that others would be leaving school shortly. Our work came to an end. Many years later, Professor Conrad wrote to me to say that in going through the college bulletin board, he had discovered, buried deep under many notices, an advertisement for “Trenchwald Has It!”

Trenchwald has It!
You can’t deny it.
Trenchwald has It!
You can’t define it……

(Lead song from “Trenchwald Has It!”
Written by London and Schanes
Music by John Frascatore)

The Fall of ’42
The 1942 Fall Semester was completely different from the past two years of college. The war was constantly on everyone’s mind. During the previous Spring, I had heard that Neal Takala, an MSTC graduate, was the first Montclair student or graduate to be called into service. I invited him to do an interview for The Montclarion and he was nice enough to come up to the campus just for that purpose. I wrote an article about him for the paper. In the Fall, we learned that he had died. And in November, we learned of the death in service of Bill Cozine, who had lived with us in Chapin Hall for two years. We attended a memorial service in his honor.

I also had a somewhat personal tragedy. I was assigned to be the Big Brother to three in-coming students, two boys and one girl. Somehow I made an early contact with one of them, Edmund Rae, and I was able to spend some time with him before school opened. He was a large, quiet boy, enthusiastic and willing to learn. When school did begin, I met with all three of my charges and provided some orientation during the first week. After that, I was busy with studies and school publications. Ed lived in the dormitory, so I did see him at meals, but that was about it. One day, he went to New York City, moved into the YMCA, attended a number of plays and movies, and then jumped from the twelfth floor. We attended a funeral Mass at a Polish Catholic church. It was a very sad occasion. I blamed myself for not paying more attention to Ed- that possibly I could have been of help. This was also my first visit to a Catholic church. I found the large, gray building, with all of its statues, to be oppressive. Incidentally, I received the news of Ed Rae’s death on a Sunday, while listening to a Gershwin composition- underpinning my life-long, unique superstition.

Because things were upsetting and our personal futures were uncertain, Al Hunter and I decided that we needed a change. We joined up with a freshman, Dean Staats, combining our room with his. In Dean’s room, we placed our three desks and all things related to our studies. Our room held the three beds and our clothing- and that was where we lived. Rarely did we ever use “the study room”. We did a lot of socializing and even went out for the college wrestling and track teams. (See Story 9C: My Athletic Career)

To add to the general air of uncertainty, we male students were given special air raid instructions by a Civilian Air Raid Warden. We had to know what to do in case of an enemy air raid on Montclair State Teachers College. At the end of the training session, each of us was given an assignment. Mine was to guard the College Administration Building every third night. Since the bombs would be coming from above, I was stationed in the building’s attic, with a pail of water, a foot-operated water pump, a bucket of sand, and a shovel. My instructions were that when an incendiary bomb came through the roof and landed on the attic floor, I was carry it with the shovel to the bucket of sand and then spray water on it. It was cold and lonely up in that attic. The attack never did come while I was on duty.

I had been accepted into “Senate”, one of the two campus fraternities. Once a month, we would meet at Professor Bohn’s home. These were wonderful occasions. Bohn was very scholarly in his manner, but he loved to relax with us. He seemed to provide some degree of perspective that was most helpful in a very confusing time.

At Christmas time, all of the students were invited to a faculty show in the gymnasium. The male students sat in front and various members of the faculty performed for us. It was a sort of “farewell” ceremony- a lot of laughs (Professor Fulmer recited “A Little Bug Will Get You Some Day- a very funny poem.) – but underneath we all knew that it was “goodbye” for many of us.

Romance
From the time I was five years old, I was always in love with some girl, the first being pretty Annie Scott. For the most part, these romances were at more than arms-length. I would be surprised if most of the ladies even knew I was doting on them. At Montclair State, I was constantly in and out of love. However, I was also part of a group of six dorm boys who hung around with six dorm girls, and this provided a buffer for the “down” days.

In September, 1942, as we watched the new freshman dorm girls, I was struck instantly and totally by Vera Rafetto. She was very pretty, medium build, with dark eyes and hair, and she had a wonderful voice and laugh. From that September until January, we walked the campus and danced in the evenings.

The Call
Right after my nineteenth birthday in January,1943, I received a letter from the Army, asking me to meet with that recruiting sergeant who had been so helpful the year before. I went to his office and received the news that I would be called into service on February 28th. I pointed out that I was still in my junior year at college and that he had guaranteed that I would not be called until I had been graduated. He said that I was quite right, but that what I might not have been aware of was that:

The State of New Jersey had passed a law, saying that if you were called into service while you were in your senior year, you were automatically graduated; The Army kept careful watch over individual student records

The Army gave college credits on a monthly basis, and that for the one month of school in February, I would receive four credits. This, combined with the extra units I had taken the previous summer, brought me to 97 units, or one point into my senior year. In effect, that extra two-unit student flying course I had taken the previous summer, with its scary rides in the Piper Cub, had now put me in the Army.

“Congratulations,” the sergeant said. “You’re a college graduate!”

(Many years later, Joseph Heller invented the phrase “Catch 22”.)

* * *

* * *