W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) was arguably the most popular author of his era. Maugham wrote more than 10 pieces for the Post, including “We Have Been Betrayed,” which appeared in the Dec. 28, 1940, issue [see PDF below].

Maugham’s talent was influenced by two important experiences from his youth. The first being that when he was young, both of his parents died, and he was sent from his home in Paris to live with an uncle in England. Maugham also had a severe stuttering problem and was bullied at school, which contributed to a fear of speaking. These factors led him to suppress his emotions.

On the other hand, as a medical student in college, Maugham was exposed to mankind’s rawest emotions while seeing the sick and dying at the hospital. This divide between no emotion and pure, unbridled emotion characterized much of his work.

When World War I broke out, Maugham used his medical skills to become an ambulance driver, alongside other notable writers of his day such as Ernest Hemingway and E.E. Cummings.

He also proved to be a good intelligence agent. In 1915, Maugham published his first novel, Of Human Bondage, and an intelligence official suggested that his language skills would make him a perfect fit for the SIS—Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service—and his career as a writer would provide a great cover. While posing as a writer (himself), he gathered information for the Allies during the war. This experience in espionage led him to write Ashenden: Or the British Agent, which is considered to be the first modern spy story.

Famous Contributors: W. Somerset Maugham The Saturday Evening Post

“Soldier on Motorbike” by Lawrence Toney

"Soldier on Motorbike"
by Lawrence Toney
from October 20, 1917

Yes, motorcycles were used in World War I, as this 1917 Post cover indicates. The U.S. military used mainly Harley-Davidson or Indian bikes, and not surprisingly, the British used Triumph, while Germany used BMW motorbikes.

“The Army used an estimated 20,000 motorcycles during the war,” wrote Lisa Gregory in a 2003 issue of Soldiers Magazine. “In fact, the first American to enter Germany after the ceasefire was reported to be motorcycle dispatch rider Cpl. Roy Holz.”

In the first world war era you’d see motorcycles, cars, trucks, and airplanes juxtaposed with cavalry!

“Indian Bike Ad” – September 7, 1918

"Indian Bike Ad"
from September 7, 1918

This 1918 Indian ad confirms that thousands of bikes were placed in the service of the Allied armies.

Indian states: “our factories are working night and day to supply the needs of Uncle Sam. … We feel sure that our civilian customers who have suffered delay by this condition will be patient until such time as we can resume our regular deliveries.”

“Indian Police Motorcycles” – February 15, 1913

"Indian Police Motorcycles"
from February 15, 1913

Very early in motorbike history, police departments learned the advantage of their maneuverability and convenience. And supplying police and military became a competitive business early in the 20th century.

Although Harley-Davidson delivered a bike to the Detroit Police Department in 1908, this ad from a February 1913 issue of the Post shows the Detroit police with squad of Indian bikes.

Click here for a virtual museum on the history of motor law enforcement.

“Indian Motorcycle With Side Car” – May 9, 1914

"Indian Motorcycle With Side Car Ad"
from May 9, 1914

This 1914 ad shows that bikes were not just for work. The ad says this motorcycle with sidecar has all the touring comfort and efficiency of an automobile at the cost of trolley fares.

“A spin on a summer’s evening. A weekend trip. A coast-to-coast tour,” the ad rhapsodizes. Well, I don’t see that last one happening on 1914 roads, but we get the idea.

“Yale Bike Ad” – November 2, 1907

"Yale Bike Ad"
from November 2, 1907

The first motorcycle ads in the Post appeared in 1907—105 years ago! This ad appeared in November of that year for a 1908 Yale California advertised for $200. It is difficult to imagine how many folks could afford that kind of outlay, which would be around $5,000 in today’s dollars.

“Tex’s Motorcycle” by Stevan Dohanos

"Tex’s Motorcycle"
by Stevan Dohanos
from April 7, 1951

We showed this cover last year in a piece about illustrator Stevan Dohanos. See more of his work in The Great Covers of Stevan Dohanos.

Mil Blair, an expert at bike building, restored the Harley-Davidson. Blair saw the bike on the Post cover when he was 11 years old and fell in love with it, undoubtedly like every other boy who saw that issue. But wait until you see it today!

“Tex’s Motorcycle”

Photo by Dwight Lamb of The Saturday Evening Post

What are the chances of a long-time staffer for The Saturday Evening Post running across a motorcycle made famous by that 1951 Post cover…literally right down the street? The Post’s Dwight Lamb is a frequent visitor to the beautiful Eiteljorg Museum in Indianapolis. Although the Eiteljorg is known for a superb collection of Indian and Western art, the museum was having a display of classic, outlandish or otherwise unique motorcycles. Lamb was stunned when he turned a corner and saw this big, blue…and oddly familiar bike. And yes, motorcycle buffs, Mil Blair, who restored this beauty, rode this classic to the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.

Acknowledgements:

• The history of motorcycle companies like Harley-Davidson are available online and are interesting even if you’re not a motorcycle buff! Click here for the history of the Indian Motorcycle.
• A special thank you to Dwight Lamb, who rediscovered and photographed our big, beautiful Harley.

Classic Art: Motorcycle Madness The Saturday Evening Post

“War Stories”

"War Stories"
from October 13, 1945

A number of Rockwell Post covers have become iconic — classics we all recognize right away. Some of the wartime covers we show you here may be some of the illustrator’s finest work, yet they are seldom seen. We view them this Memorial Day weekend to honor those who have served and those who serve today.

“War Stories”

"War Stories"
from October 13, 1945

A war hero, holding a Japanese flag, has tales of war to tell, and clearly the memories are not light, the retelling not boastful, and the life-altering experiences he relates are riveting. The news article on the wall shows that the soldier is a local hero. The model was not a former garage employee, but was indeed a decorated Marine named Duane Parks. Rockwell found him in Dorset, Vermont. The other models were, as usual, Arlington, Vermont neighbors of the artist. The man with the pipe leaning in to listen was the owner of the garage, Bob Benedict. The man posing as the policeman was Arlington town clerk and newspaper editor. The young boys Rockwell found even closer to home: the boy sitting next to the Marine was his youngest son, Peter, and the blond boy to the right was his oldest son, Jerry. They, along with brother Tommy, appeared on many a Rockwell canvas.

“The Armchair General”

"The Armchair General"
from April 29, 1944

Tracing each advance and retreat is more than an interesting pastime with this gentleman. The service flag with three stars indicates he has that number of sons serving. May the stars remain forever blue, for a gold star represents a serviceman who will not return home. With his customarily remarkable eye for detail, Rockwell shows a tiny photo of each boy by the flag, photos of generals MacArthur and Eisenhower, a wall map, and an old-fashioned radio.

“The Clubhouse Examination”

"The Clubhouse Examination"
from June 16, 1917

Going back to 1917, Rockwell shows us a different kind of “recruitment center.” Even on tiptoe, our would-be soldier doesn’t measure up to the “nesissary hite.” The “recrooter,” decked out in a combination scout/soldier attire, was one of Rockwell’s favorite early models, Billy Paine. Alas, boys sometimes do foolish things in real life and Paine died at age thirteen doing a stunt from a second-story window. He was in fifteen Rockwell Post covers.

“Fisk WWI Soldier – Youth’s Companion” by creator

"Fisk WWI Soldier - Youth's Companion"
from July 26, 1917

We found a couple of boxes of a publication called The Youth’s Companion in the archives recently. This was a children’s magazine published in Boston from 1827-1929. By happy accident, we noticed this Rockwell ad for something called “Fisk Boys Club” from a 1917 issue. Rockwell numbered Fisk Tires among his many advertising clients. What was the Fisk Boy’s Club? It was a way for youngsters to participate in the war effort:

They are not old enough to go to the front–but they make themselves useful and their labors in bicycle patrols, delivering messages, Red Cross assistants and so on are excellent training in discipline and character building that develops manly and honorable young men.

“Home at Last”

"Home at Last"
from September 15, 1945

Back to post-WWII for a restful snooze in a hammock on a quiet, sun-dappled afternoon — who could wish for more for our loved ones returning home?

Rockwell was a borrower for this painting. He borrowed the sailor, soon to return to the Navy, from Williams College. The sailor’s uniform was borrowed from a shipmate, as he didn’t have the decorations on his own. The house was borrowed from a neighbor; the hammock from another neighbor. Rockwell borrowed the pooch from his son, Tommy. The shoes were not borrowed however — they belonged to the artist.

Rockwell: The War Years The Saturday Evening Post

The high unemployment of the past few years has led to the demand by some Americans that the government “create jobs.” Opponents argue that this is not the role of government; no Federal or State agency could put everyone to work.

Yet nine state governments did exactly that between 1917 and 1918. Each one passed a mandatory-work law to support national defense after America had entered the First World War.

Massachusetts’ Compulsory Work Law, which was typical of these programs, announced the new law in these words:

The object of this act is to require [able-bodied men] to engage in some useful occupation.

All able-bodied males between the ages of 18 and 50 must work 36 hours each week at some useful occupation…

Persons possessed of independent incomes that may not make it necessary for them to work for their own support… [are] included within the scope of the act.

Persons failing to comply with the provisions of the law are liable to a penalty of a $100 fine, three months in jail, or both.
 
 
 

An article in the September, 1917, Country Gentleman reported how the program worked in Maryland.

By proclamation… every able-bodied man in Maryland not regularly employed was ordered to register [with the Compulsory Work Bureau].

There is a fifty-dollar penalty for failing to register, and the man who can’t pay this fine must work it out under special laws passed as emergency measures during the war.

Three classes of work have been designated by the governor as necessary for the protection and welfare of the state—work on farms and in orchards, work in canneries, work on state and country roads and on the streets of Baltimore.

A man placed in any one of these fields of work who refuses to do that work is liable to a fine of not more than $500, or imprisonment for not more than six months, or both.

The state expected that the incorrigibly idle would refuse to work so they could take the maximum penalty and spend a quiet, comfortable winter in jail. But the head of the state’s Compulsory-Work Bureau was ready:

“We’re going to upset that little scheme, for we have an emergency law that lets us put a man on the state roads to work out his fine.”

There was no denying that the U.S. was facing a critical shortage of labor—and everything else—when it entered the war. After joining the Allied forces, it urgently needed to build an army of 4 million men, arm them, and transport them to Europe as quickly as possible, even though we had almost no soldiers, weapons, or ships.

Making the guns and ammunition for this army would be an immense task, but so would feeding it. Farmers were urged to put all available acreage under the plow. Consequently—

There is a crying need… for more farm labor. The shoe began to pinch the farmer long before the United States actively entered the war. Our munitions plants, enlarging their capacities for war orders… have been working at top speed for several years [and] have been steadily draining farm labor from the fields to the cities.

Legislators believed the labor shortage would be solved by these mandatory-work laws. But some Americans hoped the laws would have the broader effect of banishing vagrants and hobos from the American countryside and re-instilling a strong, new work ethic.  According to a 1918 article in the Post, there was a “universal recognition” among Americans:

Some of the "million men, able-bodied" who were "chronically, habitually and professionally idle."

the idler, the loafer, must go. The industrial slacker, the drone in the hive of a busy nation, is today a doomed man.

It is, indeed, a far-reaching revolution in the spirit of a people that in so short a time the mere shirker from work should be looked upon with as much contempt and treated almost as much like a criminal as an evader of the military draft.

Never were there so few idlers in this country as now. The beggar has gone from the city street, the tramp from the kitchen door and the hobo from the railroad track.

Even before the war there could hardly have been more than five or six million men, from age eighteen to sixty-two, who were not engaged in “gainful occupations,” as the census puts it. It is doubtful if much more than a million able-bodied [men] are chronically, habitually and professionally idle.

A million loafers may not seem many in a nation of a hundred million people. But the nation is now in no mood to permit even these few to get in its way.

Then, as now, the law seemed to violate civil rights. But it was, at least, being fairly prosecuted.

It is clear that no compulsory-work law would stand any chance of being enforced unless it were used against the idle rich as well as against the idle poor.

The Post reported the case of a “Mr. B.” who was young, independently wealthy, and well connected. His friends gave him a token job to avoid prosecution, but the Compulsory Work Bureau found he only showed up a few hours a week. Despite the pressure from his influential family, he was re-arrested. Before he could be sent to a state-made job, he joined the army.

[So] the rich idler who has inherited sufficient wealth to live in luxury is placed in the same class as the ordinary vagrant.

No longer may the scions of prominent families languidly gaze from the windows of their Fifth Avenue clubs upon the man who toils… They must really work.

Women helped fill the critical labor shortage by entering the industrial workforce in large numbers for the first time.

It’s hard to tell the overall effect of the mandatory-work laws. We do know, however, that from 1917 to 1918 the unemployment rate dropped from 4.5% to 1.4%.

After the war, all the compulsory-work laws were declared illegal (though a 1916 Supreme Court ruling declared they were constitutional, even in peacetime).

In the long run, the labor shortage had a profound effect on working Americans. The war-time government was so desperate for war workers that, for the first time, it supported the claims of organized labor and forced its suppliers into binding arbitration with unions. It pressured employers to raise wages and hire minorities.

When faced with a severe labor shortage, both Federal and State government have shown they can be surprisingly innovative.

Work (Or Jail Time) for Everyone The Saturday Evening Post

Cavalry Crossing River by Henry Soulen

Cavalry Crossing River
Henry Soulen
June 9, 1917

Warfare was at a curious crossroads during this First War to End All Wars. There were modern new biplanes and old Cavalry troops. This is one of those covers that doesn’t gloss over the gritty aspects of war. This was by artist Henry Soulen, who later became known for art with an oriental flare, including several Post covers.

Soldiers in Battle by Julian De Miskey

Soldiers in Battle
Julien De Miskey
May 11, 1918

Again, no Rockwellian depiction of a soldier resembling the clean-cut boy-next-door. This is from the brutal heart of battle, and is the only cover I found by artist Julian De Miiskey. This is from May 1918.

Littlest Soldier by J.C. Leyendecker

Littlest Soldier
JC Leyendecker
September 30, 1916

Leyendecker, our most prolific cover artist, shows a lighter side here, with the “man” off to war and the “woman and child” anxiously waiting at home. This is from 1916, and no doubt many little boys were playing “war”.

WWI Dogfight by Henry Soulen

WWI Dogfight
Henry Soulen
July 21, 1917

It had only been a few years since the Wright Brothers pioneered flight. Planes were rudimentary, but present in the First World War. An enemy plane goes down in flames in this depiction of a 1917 dogfight.

Soldier Writes Mother a Letter by Frank X. Leyendecker

Solder Writes Mother a Letter
Frank X. Leyendecker

J.C. Leyendecker did many covers of soldiers, including one by a campfire writing a letter home. This one from 1918 is by his brother Frank X. Leyendecker. It is a sweet moment by candlelight, with a vision of Mother in the background. One can only imagine the homesickness.

French Soldier’s Grave by J.C. Leyendecker

French Soldier's Grave
JC Leyendecker
June 1, 1918

This is a French soldier’s grave as depicted by J.C. Leyendecker in 1918. In respectful remembrance of our fallen soldiers, free from “religious” whackos who would belittle their ultimate sacrifice, this is how a fallen hero should be honored.

Classic Covers: Remembering World War I The Saturday Evening Post

“Living memory” is the piece of history that reaches from the present moment back to the earliest memory of any living person. As long as Frank Buckles was among us, America had a link to the Great War and its entry into world politics. Now, that human connection is lost.

Admittedly, living memory isn’t as historically useful as documents and objective histories. Memories are personal, selective, and subject to fading and revision. But the idea of a bridge of memory spanning the 20^th century give us the sense of a human connection to the distant past. And the past of Frank Buckles’ youth—on the other side of the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War, and the digital age—seems particularly ancient to us.

Few events of that distant past seem as foreign as World War I. The motives and goals of the war are almost forgotten. Its weapons—barrage balloons, biplanes, and tanks that stumbled along at at 4 mph—seem quaint. The arch-foe, Kaiser Wilhelm II, looks like the comic villain from a silent movie. But the war was surprisingly modern in its use of machine guns, aerial bombing, torpedoing of passenger ships, chemical warfare, not to mention waging terrorism, executing hostages and running concentration camps.

Unfortunately, all of these weapons were applied with greater ruthlessness 20 years later, in World War II, which has become far more familiar to us, thanks to scores of popular histories, novels, and movies.

Frank Buckles didn’t want the First World War to fade into obscurity. Just last year, he was still actively campaign for a national monument in Washington to honor the 4.2 million Americans who served in World War I.

Gaining recognition for America’s role in the Great War has been a lengthy, uphill struggle.  As long ago as 1958, the meaning and lessons of World War I were getting lost among America’s subsequent wars, as a Post editorial observed:

So much has happened since eleven A.M. on November 11, 1918, that many Americans have forgotten that Armistice Day was not originally proclaimed as a day in which to commemorate the dead who served in all American wars… On the contrary, Armistice Day began as a joyous, hysterical and in many places riotous shout of relief from all over the allied world, because one particular war was over. In Tennessee they call November eleventh “Victory Day,” which is closer to the original idea. The hideous four-year slaughter was over.

The victory, which was to have made the world “safe for democracy” and, in the view of even more imaginative individuals, to have made war forever impossible, has been disappointing.

The brains of the statesmen did not equal the sacrificial effort of the men in the trenches, in the air, and on the sea who had made the victory possible. For the moment, all that mattered was that we had “tied a can to the Kaiser,” and at long last the boys could come home.

All this was forty years ago, and the men who fought in that war are nearing their sixties or well into them. Younger people see them occasionally in convention assembled, driving around town in small locomotives or boxcars labeled “quarante hommes, ou huit chevaux‘” [40 men or 8 horses]— the big gag of World War I.

But the cause for which they fought and won is pretty well obscured by two later wars, one of which we described as a “police action,” and a bewildering series of crises imposed on us by our ex-allies, the Communists. Nevertheless, the victory of 1918 was important milestone in their history of the United States. For good or ill—but certainly inevitably—it precipitated this country into the stream of world affairs…

The finales of World War II and the affair in Korea were greeted by no such delirium as shook America twice in November 1918.

Now 15,000 marines are sent off to Lebanon with hardly a ripple of public excitement. Perhaps that is what happens when a nation becomes a “world power” loaded down with global responsibilities. Nevertheless on November eleventh, it is fitting to wonder whether world leadership can long succeed without some of the patriotic fervor which sent 2,000,000 Americans into a war overseas, and the bedlam of joy which welcomed them back.

History can’t preserve the past in its entirety; most of the details held in living memory will be lost to succeeding generations. But when America chooses which memories to preserve, it should give priority to those who served this country — and gave us the luxury to occasionally forget war and its cost.

Living Memory and The Last Doughboy The Saturday Evening Post

Santa’s in the News – Norman Rockwell

Santa's in the NewsNorman RockwellDecember 26, 1942

Norman Rockwell wanted to remind us amidst the horrible 1942 war news, that it was still Christmas. Rockwell finished his famous “Four Freedoms” paintings about this time: Freedom of Speech, Freedom from Want, Freedom of Worship and Freedom from Fear. Whoever purchased a war bond would receive a set of the Four Freedom prints, and the original paintings were exhibited in a special tour, a way the artist helped rack up millions in war bond sales.

Lone Soldier – Mead Schaeffer

Lone SoldierMead SchaefferDecember 25, 1943

Nor were our WWII troops forgotten by Rockwell’s friend, fellow cover artist Mead Schaeffer. Schaeffer painted dozens of soldiers for Post covers during these years, although this is perhaps the most touching. A lone soldier standing guard on December 25, 1943. Like Rockwell, Schaeffer was a stickler for details. A WWII cover of the crow’s nest of a patrol boat was changed after the Navy took a look at it. The fear was the enemy could determine the location of our Russian convoy route on the basis of the stars in the Arctic night sky. So the heavens were scrambled for the actual Post cover. Presumably, these Christmas stars passed muster.

Hanging Holly – J.C. Leyendecker

Hanging HollyJC LeyendeckerDecember 21, 1918

Back to the first war to end all wars. Remembering her sweetheart at Christmas time, this lady keeps his photo first and foremost among the decorations. Beginning in 1899 and continuing to 1943, J.C. Leyendecker did a remarkable 322 Saturday Evening Post covers, one more than Norman Rockwell. It is said that Rockwell deliberately did one less, out of deference to his idol.

A Soldier’s Christmas – J.C. Leyendecker

A Soldier's ChristmasJC LeyendeckerDecember 22, 1917

Leyendecker did many covers of the WWI soldier, writing a letter by campfire, throwing a grenade, praying at a memorial. One we can never resist is this soldier sharing his meager holiday with a little French cutie. By now the prolific artist was famous for his iconic Arrow Shirt ads featuring remarkably handsome men and elegant ladies.

A Soldier’s Thanksgiving – J.C. Leyendecker

A Soldier's ThanksgivingJC LeyendeckerDecember 8, 1917

This happy soldier, also from 1917, lucked out for his holiday feast. Is that perhaps a plum pudding? Although Leyendecker’s art career was waning by World War II, he received commissions from the U.S. War Department to paint posters of officers like Eisenhower and MacArthur encouraging the purchase of war bonds.

Saluting Santa – J.C. Leyendecker

Saluting SantaJC LeyendeckerDecember 7, 1918

Again by J.C. Leyendecker, this cover sums it up. Wherever our troops are serving, along with our Post artists and Santa himself, we would like to salute them.

Classic Covers: A Soldier’s Christmas The Saturday Evening Post

On July 30, 1916, saboteurs working for the Imperial German Army blew up a munitions plant on the New Jersey shore, directly across from Liberty Island and Ellis Island. The blast, which was felt throughout New York, had the equivalent force of a 5.0 Richter-scale earthquake. It knocked sleepers out of their beds in Manhattan and rained debris for a two-mile radius. The shock of its force drove shrapnel into Miss Liberty’s gown and weakened the structure of her arm.

Incredibly, German agents caused this damage—estimated at half a billion dollars in 2010 currency—eight months before they were at war with the United States.

According to a 1940 article, the explosion on Black Tom peninsula might have served several purposes for the Central Powers. The author, Emanuel Voska, was a Czech spy living in New York who provided intelligence to the British government. In 1916, as he learned that German agents were tampering with munitions intended for Czarist Russia, which was then fighting for the Allies.

Cases labeled and listed as ammunition, but really containing scrap iron, old lead, or anything else heavy and useless, were being sent to Russia. This was not only sabotage but graft on a large scale. The men back of this were undoubtedly Russians collaborating with Germans. They made the Russian government pay for this junk as ammunition, and pocketed the money.

By the middle of July, thousands of cases of this stuff, together with enormous quantities of genuine ammunition, had piled up in warehouses, barges and freight cars at the Black Tom terminal of the Lehigh Valley Railroad.

This extraordinary accumulation of explosives worried me. It seemed like an invitation to the German dynamiters.

Allied Intelligence was already increasing the number of inspectors munitions factories. According to Voska, he ordered a dozen men specifically to guard the approaches to the Black Tom peninsula. He then informed the head of Russian intelligence in New York about his suspicions. Before any action could be taken, though, the saboteurs struck. Shortly after 2:00 AM, on July 30—

I woke in the small hours of the morning in terror. My stout brick house was shivering, my bed was swaying, the windows were rattling. I jumped up, fully awake, and ran to a window facing south. The distant skyscrapers rose black against a sky that seemed all aflame. My mind jumped to the explanation. The worst had happened! Someone had blown up Black Tom.

The phone rang. The jerky, excited voice of one of my guards on the Jersey shore reported, “Everything is blown up—everything! Black Tom is just one big flame!”…

I took the subway to South Ferry. The port of Manhattan Island, usually deserted at that hour, boiled with activity. Police reserves were pushing back crowds to make way for fire engines. My feet crunched on glass—the explosions seemed to have smashed every window around. Southward, huge geysers of flame showed where burning barges were loose from their moorings. Now and then, a dull explosion would precede the appearance of a gigantic moon in the southern sky. A sickening odor of burning chemicals filled the air.

I crowded onto a ferryboat for New Jersey. By enthusiastic shoving, I managed to land ahead of the others. For a fare amounting to a bribe, I got a taxicab. We made slow progress—all New Jersey seemed to be rushing toward Black Tom. When I posted my guards, I had selected a little all-night beer joint as a rendezvous. I found that although the explosion had smashed all its windows and blown its door off its hinges, the bartender was still doing business.

These live shells were salvaged by workers after most of the vast store of ammunitions at Black Tom had been destroyed in the blast.

Machachek, commander of our patrol on Black Tom, was waiting for me. He gave a quick account.

At a little before one o’clock in the morning a sudden fire broke out in a freight car. Near it were dozens of cars filled with shells and raw explosives. Sensibly and prudently, the watchmen gave an alarm and ran. At eight minutes past one, the barge, tied to a wharf more than a hundred yards from the fire, blew up. It was half an hour later before the fire in the freight car reached the other cars on the tracks, bringing the second explosion.

Only one detail of his story has any special interest after all these years. “The first explosion,” he said, “was on a barge tied up to the pier. A few minutes before the barge went up, I saw a rowboat approaching it. I could make out the figures of two men aboard. After that, everything blazed, bright as day. I saw no boat come away.”

By now, the German agents were not working in one tight organization, but in groups. Jealousy and the secretiveness of men engaged in a trade, which endangered their necks kept them from confiding in one another. Probably, the cause of the fire in the freight car was one of those time bombs, which the Germans had used to burn ships at sea. But the men in the boat? Machachek saw them approach the barge; he did not see them come away. It is possible that the directors of the plot worked a diabolical trick on their own dynamiters. This affair was so dangerous that they wished to take no chances with an operative who might be caught and confess. The man who ordered the job may have handed the perpetrators an apparatus which he described as a time bomb, but which, actually, would go off when it was set.

Ultimately, Germany accepted responsibility for the destruction and paid reparations to the United States. To Voska, though, the responsibility lay elsewhere.

As I went home that night, I kept repeating to myself, “It was the Russians—it was the Russians!” Even after all these years of reflection, I cannot get that thought out of my head.

He was convinced that Black Tom was destroyed by Russian double agents. They had accepted money from the Kaiser’s government to keep munitions from reaching the Russian army. They were also probably working for the Bolshevik forces who hoped a Russian defeat would speed the revolution (which it did). And they were lining their own pockets by selling the same withheld munitions time and again. And, most likely, they were directed by the head of Russian intelligence in New York—the same man Voska had informed of his suspicions.

For more information, you should check out the original Post article, “‘Canadian Invasion’ and Black Tom” [PDF], published in 1940.

Enemy Agents Strike New York—In 1916 The Saturday Evening Post

It is an extremely hard medal to earn; more than half of the men who earned the Medal of Honor died in their achievement.

Since 1862, when it was first given to members of our armed forces for gallantry and bravery beyond the call of duty, it has been awarded 3,445 times.

During the First World War, the President, acting on behalf of Congress, awarded the Medal to 124 servicemen. During World War II, it was awarded 464 times. All of the World War I recipients are now gone, and only 32 remain of World War II’s recipients. One of these is Wilburn Kirby Ross. “Wib”, as he is affectionately known by family and friends, is now 86 years of age and still reflects the modesty known to most heroes as only doing their duty.

He was born on May 12, 1922, in McCreary County, Kentucky, about 30 miles north of Pall Mall, Tennessee, the home of Sgt. Alvin York. Just four years before Ross was born, York won the Medal of Honor for leading an attack on a German machine-gun nest in France. Commanding seven other men, York captured 32 machine guns, killed 28 German soldiers, and forced the surrender of 132 other Germans.

Ross would have grown up hearing about Sergeant York’s accomplishments again and again; it was an area with few opportunities for distinguishing yourself. Most people made their living cutting timber, coal mining, and subsistence farming. At best, life was hard and most people were poor. Opportunities for education and good jobs were almost non-existent. Faith, family, and freedom were, and are, important to these people whose background was forged by generations of hardy pioneers.

On October 30, 1944, another representative from this region achieved recognition. Wilburn Ross, serving as a private with the 350th Infantry, manned a machine gun to drive back six attacks by German troops. He held his position even after the riflemen supporting him ran out of ammunition. He continued firing even as enemy soldiers were lobbing grenades at him from just 4 yards away. He refused to withdraw when he ran out of ammunition. Instead, he held his position as the German prepared for another attack. The ammunition arrived at the last minute, enabling him to repulse the German assault. All tolled, Ross held his position under intense fire for 36 hours.

The heroes from Kentucky: MSG. Ross, with World War I veteran Alvin C. York, was 23 when this 1945 picture was taken. Sgt. York was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions during World War I.

Asked about his heroism, “Wib” has said, “I had been in this so long, I knew what they (the Germans) were doing. When they would charge, I would mow them down.”

While serving on the Italian front, Ross was captured at the Anzio beachhead, but miraculously escaped. Dusk was coming and, for some reason, the enemy guard did not appear to be paying much attention to him, instead fixing their attention on his buddies and talking to them. Ross moved out of sight and commenced to walk away. It was night now, and those moving about him were not able to see that he was an American.

He eluded further capture and survived on his own for three days and four nights. He says, “I didn’t get hungry. I didn’t get thirsty. I was worried about getting out of there.” Traveling at night, he hid under leaves during the day. Once the Germans got so close to him, he said, “I could have reached out my hand and touched the man on his coat.”

Later, seeing American planes in the sky, he followed the direction of their flight and was happy to reunite with American forces, where he gratefully dug into a can of meat and beans.

When Ross returned to Strunk, Kentucky, he was greeted by a crowd of 3,000 citizens, Governor Simeon Willis, and a neighbor who could best appreciate Ross’s bravery and dedication: Sergeant Alvin C. York.

Americans should be grateful that uncommon valor has commonly appeared among the men and women in our armed forces. They have served their country beyond the ability of our small tributes to repay them. We must never forget those who have stood in harm’s way to defend liberty and to pay the continually rising price of freedom.

Private Wilburn Kirby Ross: An American Hero The Saturday Evening Post

The impressive cemeteries shown below are managed by The American Battle Monuments Commission. You can find more information about them at abmc.gov/cemeteries/index.php. You can also read the 1954 article, “They Will Never Be Forgotten” [PDF].

They Will Never Be Forgotten The Saturday Evening Post

Farm Appetites – Clyde Forsythe – November 24, 1917

Farm AppetitesClyde ForsytheCountry GentlemanNovember 11, 1917

We have plenty of poignant wartime covers, but this one is fun! These are hearty farm-boys-turned-soldiers, and the painting is appropriately named: “Farm Appetites.” It was done by cartoonist Clyde Forsythe, a friend of Norman Rockwell. In fact, it was Forsythe who encouraged the reticent, nervous young Rockwell to try to sell a cover to the venerable Saturday Evening Post. So Forsythe not only painted history, he helped to make it.

Women Work for War – Charles A. MacLellan – July 20, 1918

Women Work for War
Charles A. MacLellan
September 8, 1917

And who, pray, worked the land while the male farm hands were fighting the war? The “women’s land army”, that’s who. Some were country girls, others were out of their element working farms, but the women of the U.S. and Europe wanted to do their part back home.

Her Boy – K.R. Wireman” – September 15, 1917

Her BoyK. R. WiremanCountry GentlemanSeptember 15, 1917

Another seldom-seen Country Gentleman cover shows a proud mother at the mailbox, receiving a photo of her son in uniform. Let’s hope he’s back at the farm soon. This was by artist K.R. Wireman.

Necessary Height – Norman Rockwell – June 16, 1917

Necessary HeightNorman RockwellJune 16, 1917

Back at The Saturday Evening Post, a gent we all know and love, Norman Rockwell, was also recognizing the war in his art. Only about 22 himself at the time, Rockwell shows us that even the youngsters were getting into the war effort. Playing recruiter, a boy (notice the “recruiting poster”) seems to be questioning the qualifications of a vertically challenged applicant.

Uncle Sam – Herbert Johnson – June 16, 1917

Uncle SamHerbert JohnsonCountry GentlemanJune 16, 1917

This trio was vitally important to the nation in World War I. The American soldier, good old Uncle Sam and the American farmer. This was from a painting by Herbert Johnson, a well-known political cartoonist for both the Post and Country Gentleman.

Soldier’s Christmas – J.C. Leyendecker – December 22, 1917

Solders ChristmasJ.C. LeyendeckerDecember 22, 1917

I can’t leave without sharing my favorite World War I cover, “Soldier’s Christmas” by J.C. Leyendecker. A soldier is sharing his meager holiday meal with a tiny French girl. Can’t help it – gets me every time.

Classic Covers: World War I The Saturday Evening Post

In 1935, The Saturday Evening Post was offering a Shirley Temple doll to anyone who would send in a certain number of new subscriptions for the magazine. “I really wanted that doll,” Maxine writes. “I lived in Seattle and I can remember trudging around in the rain knocking on neighbors’ doors, trying to get new subscriptions. Finally, I succeeded and sent in the required new subscriptions. To my delight, I received the ‘authentic Shirley Temple doll’ as promised.”

Lester Bishop(rear, right) poses with his fellow Post Boys in 1910.
Courtesy of George Crotts.

We’re happy to share the photo of Maxine today, prettier than ever, with that same beloved Shirley Temple doll. Thank you for sharing your story, Maxine. We’ll put a bug in the Editor’s ear about this method of increasing circulation.

But we have an even older photo to share, sent in by George Crotts, Jr. of North Bend, Washington. This is a remarkably good photo for 1910 and shows Lester Bishop, a cousin to George’s mother, standing in the rear to your right. Young Lester, born in 1899, had an early and sad ending, we’re sorry to say. A mere eight years after this newsboy photo, Lester died from wounds received at the battle of Chateau-Thierry, France in World War I.

George included some photos of Les with family and friends before shipping out to France. Included was this one of Les and his parents in a fancy automobile. “Lester was honored,” George writes, “along with another young man as being the first two killed in action from Sutter-Yuba Counties in California” when VFW Post 948 in Marysville was named for them.

Les Bishop with his parents just before his deployment in World War I.
Courtesy of George Crotts.

Too many wars, too many young lives taken too soon. We’re proud to publish these fine photos in Lester Bishop’s memory.

If you have a Post Newsboy (or girl) story, the Post would love to hear from you. Send stories and photos to Diana at d.denny@satevepost.org.

Post Boys and Girls – 74 Years Later The Saturday Evening Post

The Victory Gardens idea was actually a remnant of WWI.  In 1917, the government encouraged Americans to start “War Gardens” to help feed their families and US troops. By the end of the war, Americans had begun over 3 million gardens and grown over $525,000,000 (in 1918 dollars) worth of produce .

By the time WWII came around, several advances had been made with plants, tools, and fertilizers, making the idea of gardening much more appealing, even for those who had little gardening knowledge. By 1943, school, home, and community gardens produced 40% of America’s fresh fruits and vegetables.

We have come full circle with the idea of “Modern Day Victory Gardens.”  First Lady Michelle Obama began a garden in the yard of the White House last year — the first full scale garden at the White House since Eleanor Roosevelt’s own Victory Garden during WWII.

Ms. Obama uses the garden as a platform to educate children, as well as adults, about eating healthy, nutritious, and locally grown produce at a time when obesity and diabetes have become a national concern.  She has recruited local Washington DC schoolchildren to help care for the garden and experience the fruits of their labors.

The First Lady’s example is one reason that gardening is becoming attractive to a whole new group of people. Many more people are considering trying their hand at a gardening this year, due in part to Obama’s example.  Even the Food Network got in on the game and had an “Iron Chef America” episode bring the competition to the White House.  The chefs were allowed to make recipes featuring anything they could find in the garden.  She also appeared on Sesame Street to help Elmo and the other muppets plant seeds and encourage the children watching to eat their veggies.

Eating healthfully in America is a challenge today. Many Americans argue that making healthy meals is  too expensive. It’s easier and quicker to buy fast food, or the processed food in they find supermarkets. Besides, they say, they simply don’t have the time to prepare meals from scratch.

It is true: healthy eating can cost more, and it takes planning and work. But having  your own garden is a big help. It can  be quite inexpensive and yield very high rewards.  Also, the process of gardening can become a whole-family activity.  Children and adults alike will appreciate the hard work they put into getting their delicious fruits and vegetables.

Many people have been concerned about eating “locally grown” foods, wherever they live — how much more local can you get then your own yard?  Gardening also provides the benefits of exercise, fresh air, and sunlight while caring for the garden, as well as stress relief.  In our high-tech, constantly busy society, the hours spent in the garden are good, quality-quiet time, both for body and mind.

If you are a First Time Gardener but  have no idea where to begin, the Post wants to help. Over the next few months, we will offer a series of articles to help people begin gardening. We hope you’ll find these articles valuable to get a garden rolling in your own yard, window-box, or community.

Food preservation, storage, and canning will be covered, as well as tasty recipes that allow the gardener to enjoy the season’s worth of work all year long!

Bookmark www.thesaturdayeveningpost.com and follow along as we explore this topic in detail.

It’s Planning Season for Recession Gardens The Saturday Evening Post

The world didn’t know what to expect when America entered the First World War. America hadn’t yet proved itself among the old-world powers. Sure, we had beaten Spain’s colonial troops in Cuba and the Philippines, but we had yet to face a modern, motivated, successful army. Specifically, we hadn’t fought the German army, which had already defeated Russia and planted itself immovably on French soil.

Generals in France and England were looking forward to the fresh American troops we would supply them. They had little regard for the skill and organization of our fighting forces. They just wanted to throw our soldiers into their lines and continue the strategies that had already cost them millions of their own troops.

In June, 1918, they learned that America would be far more than just a source of manpower. America purchases this respect through a relentless, 25-day battle through a dense forest against an entrenched German position.

This proving ground was Belleau Wood.

“Thirty German divisions had been hurled against seven French and British division on a forty-mile front. The inevitable happened. Exhausted after weeks of incessant fighting, the French were compelled to fall back. For six days they had retreated disheartened and disorganized. Human endurance could stand no more. It was in this critical hour that the French high command decided to call on the Americans.”

The account is taken from “The Americanization of Belleau Wood,” by Isaac F. Marcosson, in the November 14, 1925 issue of The Saturday Evening Post.

“In their plunge to the south the Germans occupied the little towns of Belleau, Torey and Bussaires … Here they dug three line of trenches—the first was at the southern end—and installed scores of machine-gun nests. Lines of barbed wire and sharpshooter holes completed what was a strong natural defense due to the thick underbrush and heavy trees. “Garrisoned with infantry and alive with machine gunners, it was too strong a fortress to be allowed to remain in enemy hands. The Wood had to be cleared, and the task fell to the Marines, who, on June second, comprised the only American unit that had arrived on the scene.

“The French wanted to run the show, but [US Army] General Harbord asked to be let alone. He said, ‘Let us fight in our way and we will stop them.’ He won out and was given a free hand. Thus it came about that Belleau Wood was the first engagement in the war in which our troops went on their own.”

What followed was not the gallant combat of movies, but a grim, desperate struggle—a fight for survival as much as for victory. The Marines held their ground and slowly, slowly pushed forward. They came into the fight exhausted and under-equipped. They fought for weeks without reinforcements, suffering incredible casualty rates.

“The Marines … knew that it was up to them to stop the Germans and they did it. They went into Belleau Wood across a wheat field swept by a withering fire. Once inside those dim confines they stayed. From June second until the last German was routed out of the forest on June twenty-fifth, Belleau Wood was the scene of what was probably the bitterest hand-to-hand fighting in the war. Those silent aisles of oak, birch and pine witnessed deeds of individual heroism that in other conflicts would have stood out as epic feats. At Belleau Wood they were merely part of the day’s work.

The Americanization of Belleau Wood
by Isaac F. Marcosson
November 14, 1925

“The Marines did the job, but at heavy cost. In and around the Wood the slain were in the proportion of about one to every five wounded, while the usual battle ration is one killed to every seven or eight wounded. It means that many wounded soldiers remained in the fight until killed by a second or third wound.”

The Aisne-Marne American Cemetery was built after the war near the site of this battle. It holds the grave of 2,200 American soldiers killed in the fighting of 1918.

The original name of the region was Blois de Belle Eau, or the Woods of Beautiful Waters. In recognition of the sacrifice of our troops, France has permanently changed the name to The Woods of the Marine Brigade.

The First World War ended on November 11, 1918. The anniversary of that date has now become Veterans Day, honoring all veterans, of all wars.

On this day, we should remember the veterans among us, and the service they have performed for our country. Recognition and gratitude are never wasted in his direction. But we should also remember the thousands of Americans whose remains rest in 24 cemeteries around the world:

Aisne-Marne, France

Ardennes, Belgium

Brittany, France

Brookwood, England

Cambridge, England

Corozal, Panama

Epinal, France

Flanders Field, Belgium

Florence, Italy

Henri-Chapelle, Belgium

Lorraine, France

Luxembourg, Luxembourg

Manila, Philippines

Meuse-Argonne, France

Mexico City, Mexico

Margraten, Netherlands

Normandy, France

Tunis, Tunisia

Oise-Aisne, France

Rhone, France

Sicily-Rome, Italy

Somme, France

St. Mihiel, France

Suresnes, France

For more information on these cemeteries, and the battles with which they are associated, go to abmc.gov/home.php .

The World Is Forced to Re-Evaluate America’s Military Power The Saturday Evening Post

He’s in the Army now. A seldom seen cover from December 1942 by John Atherton shows a faithful dog and a photo. From the uniform, we can guess where the master is. We hope he returns home soon–Spot is itching to go hunting.

The enlisted also included the ladies, as shown in a delightful cover from 1942 by an artist named Gilbert Bundy. A member of the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) walking by the shop can’t help but notice the pretty little hat on the mannequin. Someday soon, she thinks, I’ll be able to wear pretty things again.

One of our most endearing covers of a soldier is from the prolific J.C. Leyendecker. This December 1917 cover shows a WWI soldier in Europe sharing a humble meal with a local native, the “native” being an irresistible little girl.

On the May 14, 1927, cover by artist E. M. Jackson, a sailor accomplished an important mission in the Orient—finding a genuine American hot dog!

Celebrating soldiers, sailors, and marines—the 1937 cover by John Sheridan captures all three, with a parade below in their honor. Just as it should be.

Norman Rockwell honored the military during the WWII years with several covers of the “every soldier” he named Willie Gillis. We’ve shown Willie’s military adventures before, but not this one from 1941. Rockwell’s famous private is home on leave, snuggled under the quilts and enjoying the luxury of sleeping late. The sign above the bed echoes our ardent wish for all our military men and women: Home Sweet Home.

Classic Covers: A Salute to Veterans The Saturday Evening Post