May 08, 2005

VE DAY IN AMERICA: THE WAY IT WAS

When you remember VE Day, what you often think of are two or three world-famous images—the crowds in Picadilly Circus waving, taxi horns blaring, thumbs up mate, and pandemonium; or the scene in front of Buckingham Palace where thousands of Englishmen are shouting and waving to Winston Churchill on the balcony, holding his hand up showing them the V for victory sign, smiling broadly as he stands next to George VI and the Royal Family, the King and Queen making slow, demure circles in the air, sans excitement, as true royals would; and lastly the sailor embracing the young nurse as he kisses her passionately in the middle of Times Square—an image which appeared on the cover of Life Magazine.

These have been the emblematic images of Allied triumph at the end of World War II for the past 60 years. Somehow they seem to represent the characters of the two great Western democracies. England: where the tough little Tommy fights for King and Country and needs to receive and acknowledge the Royal Family’s benevolence. America: the land of the common man who feels free to pursue happiness where and when he can find it.

What’s wrong with this picture? What’s wrong is that the sailor wasn’t kissing the nurse in Times Square on VE Day, but on VJ Day, when World War II finally ended. In fact there are no emblematic American images of VE Day. Thousands of pictures were taken in various cities in the United States on that day, but none that captures the spirit and imagination like the pictures described above. Why?

Although the documents of surrender were signed on May 7, 1945, there was uncertainty as to when a formal declaration of peace would be made. In fact it didn’t occur in the Soviet Union until May 9. In America President Truman decided to make his announcement around 9:00 AM on the eighth. His speech was low-keyed rather than triumphant, and although brief was extremely sober, exhorting all Americans to remember that there were still Americans fighting a determined enemy in the Pacific.

The country responded with mixed emotions. The New York Times recorded these headlines on VE Day: “CHIEF CITIES TAKE VICTORY IN STRIDE. First Bursts of Enthusiasm Are Followed by Return to Work Over the Country.” And from around the country the Times reported “Calm Prevails in Pittsburgh,” “Restraint in Philadelphia,” “Calmness and Prayer in Atlanta,” “Los Angeles stays at Work,” “New England, the scene of so many historic events, retained its cloak of conservatism today and accepted calmly but with inward joy the surrender of Germany.”

In New York City there were small explosions of gaiety and celebration which kept petering out. There was one on Wall Street around lunch time and one around Times Square in the morning and a larger demonstration at around 9:00 PM when the lights on the Great White Way were turned back on again after three and a half years. This lasted until midnight and consisted mostly of men and women in uniform.

Whatever large-scale revelry and rejoicing there was had occurred the day before on May 7, until Mayor Fiorello La Guardia stilled most of the din at 3:15 PM. Through loudspeakers set up in Times Square he pleaded, “I want all the people of the City of New York who have thoughtlessly left their jobs to go home or return to their jobs, and I want to beg of them again, that having taken time off, not to do it again.

“Just remain on your jobs as a tribute to the men who have won the war in Europe and as a token of support to the men who are fighting and dying at this very moment in the Pacific.”

Meyer Berger of the Times reported: “Somewhere in the vast throng that had lapsed into sudden silence when the Mayor’s voice reverberated across Times Square, one little group booed, but the sound died when he appealed to the crowd on behalf of the dying.

“He went on, still emotionally: ‘Maybe there’s still some fighting going on [in Europe]. You don’t know and I don’t know. Let’s not be childish about it. We have trusted in Eisenhower; we have stood by our government through this war. Let’s be patient…and behave in a manner befitting the great people of a great democracy.’

“A hush closed on the square. Men, women, soldiers, sailors, marines, bobby-soxers and high school freshmen in the tremendous throng looked sheepishly at one another….Almost instantly…the crowd began to break up.”

The fact is that VE Day in America was not a very memorable day. Our leaders did not feel particularly triumphant and the people of the country knew that they were right and accepted the constraints they urged.

It is understandable that the Brits reacted the way they did—for them, it had been six years of calamity and it was only 5 or 6 weeks since the Germans fired the last two V2 rockets of the war. One of them, falling on London at 7:00 AM, killed 134 people in a block of flats in Stepney. For the British people the war was over. Whatever fighting in the Far East had to be done would be done by their colonial army—the Indians, Anzacs, Burmese, etc., rather than the Brits themselves. From the beginning, the war in Europe was the British war, while the American war, in the hearts of Americans, was the war in the Pacific. Americans were willing to accept the “Europe first” idea because they are a generous people; they were willing to accept the idea that the defeat of Germany was the primary strategic aim.

In those days, before television, radio did the heavy lifting for immediate, direct communication with the American people. And although they may not have been in the mood for merrymaking that day, they were gripped by what was going on in Europe. And radio brought it to them.

One of the most memorable broadcasts in a long day of memorable broadcasts was a program organized by CBS commemorating the seriousness of the day: “On a Note of Triumph,” written and directed by Norman Corwin. Corwin was one of the best radio writers during the twenty years when radio was the dominant mass medium. “On a Note of Triumph” is an elegiac summing up of the war, and because Corwin was also a poet of the proletariat it was a hymn to the little guy as well.

“….this is It, kid, this is The Day: this

is what we’ve been waiting for!

But through the din, the clamor, don’t you hear a whisper?

In the hearing of your conscience, don’t you get a voice?

Listen:

Listen:

Nothing yet: just crowd: but listen close:

Take your good ear out of low range:

Whisk it high, hoist it up to cirro-stratus country, up

To where a B-29 has wing-room:

Flash across an Atlantic heaving under the sway of a victors moon:

Listen for intimations of wind and water, and a rush of fog eastward of

the Grand Banks….”

For teenagers like myself, listening in all over the country, it was an inspiration. The whole production—powerful words, compelling narration by Martin Gabel, a wonderful radio actor, and a powerful musical score—combined to create, at that moment in time, a very moving experience. In retrospect the play is politically naïve, pretentious, even corny but touching nonetheless. Try a bit of it by clicking HERE.