"He Was There"

You know I have a friend named Mike Moldeven. Mike has contributed several articles to The Bailey Post. Mike and I went to breakfast shortly after he recently (July) `celebrated his 95th birthday. He was born in 1916 in Brooklyn, New York. I asked Mike to write down some of his recollections from the 1930's, then his experiences leading up to and his connection to Pearl Harbor, 1941. All of us have had to rely on grainy black and white footage or textbooks to get the facts of that era. None of us can ever know first hand what it was like in the Great Depression or WWII. Mike was there and old enough at the time to remember what he experienced. Here then is Mike's own words done in three installments. First his recollection of the 1930's. Installment two will be his training leading up to WWII. The third installment will be his recollections of Pearl Harbor and the war.


Much of my time during the 1930’s was spent looking for a job, the same as most of my peers. I tried to sell newspapers, a nickel, or neckties for a dime on the subway or el stations but with no luck. Then I got a job in a shoe factory working a machine that punched tiny holes in shoes and simultaneously installed the eyelets that held the shoe laces. Those were the days of FDR's NRA (National Reconstruction Administration). My salary was an NRA-directed $10 per week. Suddenly, the US Supreme Court ruled that the NRA was unconstitutional. That ruling abolished all 'directed' salaries and my 10 bucks per week dropped to 8. Then I got laid off. I got a job in Jersey working on a hydraulic (metal bending) brake. That didn't last long either.

My friend, Manny, and I hiked a lot in the Adirondacks somewhere near the 'Finger Lakes' and I remember those days well. Those were the days when the 'unemployed' (like me) put in a few hours every couple of weeks with the NYA (National Youth Administration). I got a check in the mail for what I did: sanding down blocks of wood by hand (don't as me why; it was just 'busy work' for all of us.).

Manny and I were good friends. We met in one of the 'pencil block'
sanding gangs run by the 'home relief.' After the class, he and I
would head for the Automat for coffee and cake, and just talk. We'd
also join others like us and take the subway to the end of the line
and walk north from there, just talking. He was drafted into the Army
and I didn't hear from him other than when one of the guys in our
Lower East Side group told me that his family got the word that he had
been killed in the War. Not much said among us after that.

Where I lived public lineups did exist for homeless individuals and
families. I also remember the Salvation Army helped many people.
There was what we called 'home relief' operated by a 'community'
agency that was part of the 'city.' They distributed food and 'second hand' clothing and 'tickets' that could be traded in at groceries for specified categories of foods.
Today there are similar relief programs in play.

'Moods' about what was going on in the thirties varied according to where you lived. I recall my brotherfrequently taking me along with him to mix in with the 'Union Square'crowd. The 'soap box' was a reality. Speakers attracted listeners andI was one of the listeners, especially when my brother was one of the
speakers. When the cops hassled the crowd to move on, I carried my
brother's soap or orange box. We'd find another location in the
'Square', sometimes Columbus Circle at the foot of Central Park. My
brother's favorite pitch almost always got a chuckle from the
listeners. He'd say, "Comes the Revolution, you'll have 'peaches and
cream." and I'd holler along with the crowd, "I don't want peaches and
cream.' and my brother and I would holler back, "YOU'LL TAKE PEACHES
AND CREAM, Y'HEAR? LIKE IT ON NOT! And that invariably got more
chuckles, even laughs.

It was in(1939, I think) that I hitch-hiked down to D.C. to see my friend Manny. We wandered around Washington and eventually stopped in and sat down at the Post Office and I noticed posters on a wall. One of the posters invited applicants for Govt. jobs. So, what the hell; I took a couple of application forms, filled in a few blanks, mailed it in, and a few months later was offered a job at Wright Field. This was a military position. Hoo Hah! The next thing I recollect is that I was at Patterson Field, WITH A REAL JOB. That took me to the end of the 1930’s. I was trained in parachute maintenance and parachute rigging. I was 24 years old and glad to have a job and a place to be.

The next episode will cover my experiences as a parachute rigger, leading up to December 7, 1941 PEARL HARBOR.