Ida had her own political aspirations for her husband: first become governor of the state, and then later sweep on into the White House. But, sadly, Herbert Jenkins was perfectly content to be just a banker and live in Elmwood Springs, and it upset Ida to no end. “If I thought a woman could get elected, I’d run myself,” she said. Poor Ida. She was born ahead of her time.
It seemed as if summer flew by that year. The movies continued to inspire fashions and hairstyles, and everybody wanted a figure like Claudette Colbert’s.
Especially Gerta Nordstrom. She attended the county fair in October and made the mistake of stopping at the “Guess Your Weight” booth. The man had been right on the nose and announced it in a loud voice for all the world to hear: “The little lady weighs one hundred and seventy-nine pounds!”
The fair was fun for all the 4-H kids, who won lots of blue ribbons. Elner Shimfissle took first place in Preserves and Jellies. And Merle Wheeler had the largest tomato.
On November 16, Gerta and Ted’s son, Gene Nordstrom, now a junior at Elmwood High School, threw the winning touchdown pass, and they finished the season as tri-county champions. Then, before they knew it, it was December.
The Morgan Brothers Department Store had their usual big, beautiful Christmas display in the window, this year with moving parts. Seeing Santa’s reindeer bob up and down thrilled everyone. Little Norma Jenkins got a Sparkle Plenty doll, and her mother, Ida, received the fox fur she had wanted, with plastic eyes and nose.
On Christmas Eve, Tot’s husband, James Whooten, got drunk on eggnog and fell into the Christmas tree, but other than that, everybody had a great Christmas.
Now that the Depression was ending, the bakery was back in full swing: the long glass cases lined with cinnamon buns, cream puffs, and cupcakes, all looking wonderful. Everybody loved to go into the bakery. It had such a sweet smell and a pretty shiny black-and-white-tile floor that Ted and Gerta kept so clean, you could eat off it. And a lot of children did. If they dropped a pastry, they’d pick it right up and continue eating it, and their parents didn’t mind.
At the movies, Clark Gable had been replaced by the new heartthrob of the moment, Tyrone Power, and all the boys wanted to be John Wayne. But as it turned out, not all the women in town still wanted to be Claudette Colbert. One afternoon in May of 1941, when the newly formed Elmwood Springs Ladies’ Bowling Team had been on their way out to the new Blue Star Bowling Alley to practice, Ada Goodnight, the larger twin, announced that she wanted to become an actress just like her idol, Joan Crawford. Her youngest sister, Irene, made fun of her, but as their mother said later, “Who knows, Irene? Ada may not have the acting talent, but she certainly has the shoulders for it.”
The weekend dances continued out at the lake, and as Birdie Swensen noted up at Still Meadows, “There seem to be more fireflies than ever this summer.”
September came around again. And, as usual, over at the high school, the seniors were very happy to be seniors, the freshmen were nervous, and the sophomores and juniors felt like they were in limbo and just slogged through the long days. At the end of November, Irene Goodnight, who was a junior, came home and fell onto the living room couch and sighed, “I’m so bored with home economics, I don’t know what to do. If I have to bake another angel food cake, I’ll throw up.”
Then on December 7, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and, suddenly, everybody’s world was turned upside down.
—
THE VERY NEXT DAY, all the senior boys at Elmwood High School drove to Springfield and signed up for military service, including eighteen-year-old Gene Nordstrom, who joined the marines. Emotions were running high everywhere. People couldn’t believe that the Japanese had attacked us and killed so many of our boys. “I don’t understand it—what did we ever do to them?” asked Gerta. Everyone agreed. Verbena Wheeler said she would never eat another can of chicken chow mein as long as she lived. James Whooten was so mad about the attack that he sobered up for three days and tried to join the army, but failed the physical.
People remained in shock for quite a while. It seemed that overnight, the whole town had suddenly focused on the war. But as the weeks went by and after all the boys had gone off to their different training camps, they all got busy doing what they could to help.
Hazel Goodnight organized groups of ladies and high school girls to drive over to Springfield and meet the troop trains they knew would be passing through. They would set up a stand and serve the boys hot coffee and sandwiches through the train windows. Scared soldiers on their way to who-knows-where threw pieces of paper with their names and addresses on them, hoping to get a girl to write to them. Some did and always sealed their letters with a kiss.
Within six months, Ander Swensen had the Sweet Clover Dairy operating close to twenty-four hours a day, busy shipping milk and cheese for the boys at all the training camps close by.
The poor cows had no way of knowing there was a war going on. All they knew was that people seemed to be in a hurry.
Schoolchildren were busy collecting rubber and scrap. In June 1942, Beatrice Swensen agreed to be head of the local Red Cross. She was in charge of the ladies rolling bandages and packing up boxes to be shipped overseas, and Elner agreed to help her. Because of the mandatory blackouts, all the streetlights in town were painted blue. It made all the little white houses look like something on the moon. But as Ruby Robinson said, “It must be working. We haven’t been bombed yet.”
People on the home front were kept as informed as possible. News of the war was broadcast over the radio three times a day, and three times a day, everyone stopped what they were doing and listened. And every Sunday night, they all tuned in to FDR’s fireside chat.
By the end of 1943, everybody had a ration book. Sugar rationing was hard on the bakery business, and most of the sugar Ted and Gerta were allowed went into the baking of cakes and cookies that they mailed to their son, Gene, his best friend, Cooter Calvert, and all the other hometown boys all over the country. Cooter Calvert was all the way up in New Jersey, and Billy Eggstrom was stationed at Scott Field in Illinois.
Ida Jenkins, who had always prided herself on her yard and beautiful camellias and boxwoods, suddenly appointed herself chief inspector of all the town’s Victory gardens. She even had a green uniform made and a cap with a gold star on the brim. It meant nothing, but she so enjoyed wearing it as she marched through people’s gardens, barking orders.
She was good at her job, and for the duration of the war, the town did have excellent produce. As Verbena Wheeler said, “Ida can be a real pill sometimes…but she does know her squash.” Someone else remarked, “By God, if Ida had been a man, she would have made general by now.”