It was 60 years ago today that the United States detonated a 1.7 kiloton nuclear weapon in an underground tunnel at the Nevada Test Site. The test, known as Rainier part of a series of nuclear weapons safety tests ,was the first fully contained underground detonation and produced no radioactive fallout. 

However, there was a lot less concern about safety just a few short years earlier.

In the early 1950’s the Atomic Energy Commission decided that parts of Utah and Nevada would be the sight of a continental proving ground for nuclear weapons. It became the first American Ground Zero. “Accidents Will Happen- By The Bombs Early Light.”Collage of appropriated images by Sally Edelstein

Rivaling the Grimm Brothers, one of the greatest stories told by the U.S. Government to its citizens  was the safety of the nuclear testing done in Nevada in the early 1950’s.

Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Collage of appropriated images

Our government insisted that the spate of nuclear atmospheric testings in the American West were no more a danger than the new fangled TV transmissions racing through the sky. The Atomic Energy Commission  had decided that Utah and Nevada these “virtually uninhabited territory” would be the perfect site for Nuclear testing.

Most shrugged off the potential hazards of atmospheric testing especially the long-term danger.

In fact the danger lay in not doing the tests.

Most Americans agreed that the ultimate benefit of peace and security that only nuclear bombs would bring us was more than enough for the potential risk.

Alarmists

Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Detail. Collage of appropriated images

Of course there were outlandish allegations from some alarmists who attributed everything from rising cost of living to climate change, birth defects even throwing the very earth off its axis, to the tests.

The government debunked each of these fears.

Carefully crafted “friendly atom propaganda” appeared covering over much evidence of bombs harmful effects on human health.

It was, Uncle Sam said with a shrug, the same nervous Nellies who thought we should be concerned about the safety of DDT! Radiation was like taxes, not pleasant but you learned to live with it.

This was the most prodigiously reckless program of scientific experimentation in US history. Over the next 12 years, the governments nuclear cold warriors detonated 126 Atom Bombs into the atmosphere at the Nevada test sites. “There is no danger” Atomic Energy Commission assured the public. Like most Americans citizens most of the residents in the area just didn’t think their government could do any wrong. Years later when the cancers and leukemia appeared, their unquestioned faith in their government was shattered. These were American citizens referred to by their government as “low use segment of the population.” Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Detail. Collage of appropriated images

Our government had guaranteed us the safety of the testings and if you couldn’t trust the USA who could you trust?

Every school kid knew the father of our country George Washington would never tell a lie, and so a trusting public believed that our Uncle Sam’s word was as trustworthy as a boy scout.

With a ringing endorsement from the AEC confirming that Uncle Sam had taken all the necessary precautions to ensure our safety, the Nevada Test Site only 65 miles from Las Vegs became quite the attraction. Why some folks even made a family trip of it, catching Frank Sinatra at the Sands Hotel while they took in the sights at the Nevada Test Site.

Folks were encouraged to pack their Brownies and Coppertone and head west for a rip roarin’ good time. And if you forgot your Brownie Hawkeye at home not to worry; the experience would give you long lasting memories to relive again and again.

Nevada Test Site

Minutes before the first light of dawn on Jan 27, 1951 an Air Force B 50 Bomber dropped an atomic bomb on the desert west of Las Vegas. The flash of light awakened ranchers in northern Utah, the concussion shattered windows in Arizona; radiation swept across America contaminating as far as northern NY.  Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Detail. Collage of appropriated images

Thousands were flocking to Nevada to witness these bombs bursting in air.

Capturing the rugged flavor of the old west where the sky is not cloudy all day- except of course when the bomb goes off- the desert landscape became littered with lawn chairs and luncheon meat. Insulated tartan plaid coolers dotted the desert as sight seekers in pedal pushers and sunny summer separates made themselves comfortable for the countdown.

Before the first light of dawn, dazzled tourists, their hearts thumping in their newly purchased wash n wear resort wear, sleepy kids in their pajamas and Roy Rogers hats, gathered with ex-GI’s in Bermuda shorts wearing WWII issued anti-glare Ray Bans.

Rockets Red Glare

As the pink clouds drifted across the flat mesas, the shock waves booming against the chests a veil of radioactive particles floated over the test site. With the rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air, the heat from the blast stimulated a healthy radiant blush on the visitors, leaving them with an envied sunburned vacation glow.

Downwinders

We were still fairly innocent about Atomic Power in the early part of the decade. Few knew that by the late 1950s radioactive elements released in above ground bomb tests had traveled invisibly thousands of miles to land on grass American cows ate and so entered the milk American children drank. Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Detail. Collage of appropriated images

And for those folks who couldn’t make any of the 126 test detonated over 12 years, no worries.

The wind would carry the mushroom cloud downwind, dispersing radioactive elements over the purple mountains majesty, above the fruited plains, making you feel just like you had actually been there.

Accidents Will Happen

Sally Edelstein “Accidents Will Happen- By the Bombs Early Light” Detail. Collage of appropriated images

In 1961 Physicians for Social responsibility was founded by doctors concerned about the public health dangers associated with the testing and use of nuclear weapons.

Despite the government protestations of I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing, several serous health affects such as increased incidences of cancers, leukemia, thyroid diseases and congenital malformations have now been well documented to those citizens known as downwinders- individuals and communities exposed to radioactive contamination from nuclear weapon testing.

The irony of the Atmospheric testings is that the only victim of the US nuclear arms since WWII have been our own citizens.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2017.

With the nuclear sabre rattling mounting in North Korea, its hard for old fears not to be renewed. For those of us who grew up during the 1950’s and 1960’s the fear of nuclear attack was the subtext of our lives. Nothing matched the profound fears that gripped our country’s fear of a cold war turning hot.

It was a time when most Americans assumed the U.S. and the Soviets stood continuously on the brink of nuclear war.

Memories of growing up duck and covering didn’t just flood back – they are always lurking in the recesses of my mind.

Jet Age Jitters

(L) A public service newspaper ad produced by the Advertising Council, advising mothers to be prepared with an assortment of first aid materials should a nuclear bomb attack occur. (R) A government illustration superimposing an Atomic Bomb Test over the NYC skyline to indicate the scale of the blast.

In the post-war world of push-button ease and no more guess-work, it was anyone’s guess when the ultimate button would be pushed and nuclear war begin. “How much time do we have, minutes, days, months, years? We don’t know,” a somber male voice asked on a public service announcement. “But this we do know – Civil Defense is everybody’s business.”

Fueling our prodigious  fears was the emphasis on Civil Defense and the governments zeal in educating the public about the risk of an atomic attack- how you could survive one, and how to plan and pack for the few days you and your family would have to spend in your fall out shelter.

Civil Defense is the  Best Defense

(L) A 1956 comic book entitled “Mr Civil Defense Tells About Natural Disaster” (R) 1951 Civil Defense Manual

Lucky for me my own Dad was well versed in the art of preparedness, a lesson I would learn at the tender age of two.

If it was a Wednesday night  in 1957, it meant Dad would be out for the evening at his weekly Civil Defense meeting. My father was Marshall of Civil Defense for all of western Nassau county – and part of his job was conveying helpful information straight from the Department of Defense to groups of concerned citizens with a good case of atomic jitters.

Preparedness

Standing in for folksy, Uncle “Aw shucks” Sam, the talks were composed of neighborly suggestions on how to protect yourself and plan now for possible emergency action if the moment of Atomic attack came.

These evenings were exciting for Dad and it was flattering to be summoned to speak before groups and large public gatherings, not to mention being courted by The Long Island Press reporters. He gave his speeches in churches, club-rooms, school auditoriums, similar to the hundreds of public meetings that gathered all over the country for the same purpose.

The audience listened intently, a dense cloud of fear enveloping them as they drifted off into the seemingly safety of the quiet suburban night. In reality these talks did nothing to dampen fears, and only underscored how very unprepared we were.

Preparedness

An early 1950s Civil Defense booklet asked the question “Can we survive a grand slam attack on our country? And the answer- “Certainly! If we are prepared on the home front!”

One unusually warm night in May, Dad was off to a local Kiwanis Club in Rockville Center. He was handsomely dressed in his medium gray, sharkskin suit with the harmonizing over-plaid. It was authoritative, style wise. “Planned,” the salesman at Moe Ginsberg who sold him the suit had said, “for men whose clothes must reflect their sound judgment.”

It was, the perfect suit in which to deliver his Civil Defense talk.

Despite the fact that he had gone over his speech all weekend with Mom till her poor eyes glazed over, he still seemed in need of an audience to practice just once more. With Mom indisposed preparing dinner,  mine were the only willing set of ears in the house.

Captive in my crib, Dad delivered his speech to me with the intensity of a campaign stumper.

Learn and Live

(L) The Cover of a 1956 book which emphasizes the immediate necessity of learning survival techniques (R) Vintage children’s book illustration “The Happy Family” Golden Books 1955

Rustling his papers, he began his lectures as he always did, stating the obvious- Civil Defense was Common Sense.

“A few days ago I was talking with the Director of Civil Defense,” he’d begin all sunny and cheerful, “and he told me things that I feel everyone should know.”

Dad was as folksy and breezy as if he were leaning over his neighbors picket fence discussing the best fertilizer for your lawn. “That’s why I’m speaking to you right now.”

With a confident lilt to his voice he would inform his audience: “Did you know, for example, that your chances of surviving an atom bomb are excellent? It’s true, but there’s a big if . You must do everything possible now, to help yourself and your family. Nobody else will help you! Learn and Live through civil defense.”

The government provided him with lots of snappy phrases like, “Alert Today, Alive Tomorrow” that peppered his talks with the persistence of a Pepsi jingle.

In case of an H-bomb blast the Atomic Energy Commission offered some easy advice:

“People in fall out areas can protect themselves by following some simple rules,” they suggested reassuringly. “The news of an H Bomb attack will be announced over the radio and most people will know about it before the veil of stinging dust comes settling down out of a clouded sky over farm, forest and village.”

“So until then, enjoy the freedom to live as you please.”

Civil Defense is Common Sense

At Home with the Nuclear Family (L) A series of images that ran in Life Magazine are from a government film as part of an Atomic Bomb test taken of a house closest to the detonation of the 3/53 Operation Doorstep (R) Vintage children’s schoolbook illustration 1950s “Stories About Linda and Lee”

“Listen, because this is important!” he scolded.  “Keep a closed container of drinking water in your refrigerator, enough for three days. Be sure you have a good fire extinguisher.”

“Take a look around your house right now and pick out the safest spot, away from windows and doors. Make sure every member of your family understands he is to rush to that safe spot when there’s danger. I’m convinced that these precautions are necessary right now and I hope I can convince you. Civil Defense is common sense.”

Slapping the side of the crib  to emphasize his point, startled me and I began to cry.

Spying my Tuggy Turtle pull toy laying on the floor, Dad scooped it up and wiggled it playfully, trying to distract me from crying. Inching the toy turtle around the perimeter of the crib – Tuggy’s little legs lazily shuffled as his tail wagged to a xylophone tune – Dad sang to me in a playful squeaky voice:

“There was a turtle by the name of Bert

And Bert the Turtle was very alert

When danger threatened him he never got hurt

He knew just what to do”

Dad quickly moved the turtle in and out of my sight range and I giggled as he continued:

He’d duck and cover, duck and cover

He’d hide his head and tail and four little feet

He’d duck and cover.”

Bert The Turtle Cartoon Booklet that was part of the Duck n Cover campaign aimed at children 1951

Kissing me gently as he left, he tickled me and whispered “Civil Defense is Common  Sense.” Snug as a bug in my crib, my own private fall out shelter, I clutched Tuggy the Turtle with his unbreakable shell and giggled in delight.

Silly Daddy.

Copyright (©) 2017 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

Along with Bugs Bunny and Peter Cotton Tail, no rabbit figured as prominently in my Mad Men era youth as the iconic Playboy Bunny.

Next to an Airline Stewardess or a gal Friday at a Madison Avenue Ad agency, a Playboy Bunny was the most glamorous job a gal could hope for.

Ring a Ding-ding! Why settle for a job as an executive secretary when you could have a glamorous career as a Playboy Bunny?

Sure a mid-century gal could easily snag a swingin’ job as a stenographer, but Hef’s girls “go places.” Being a Playboy Bunny was the way smart gals got ahead.

At least that’s what Hugh Hefner led us to believe.

Barbie and the Bunny

L) Vintage Playboy Bunny Illustration R) Vintage Barbie Fashions- Solo in the Spotlight

So as a child it was always a disappointment to me that with all of Barbie’s countless ensembles  a playboy bunny costume was not among them.

Oh how I longed to dress my Barbie with satin bunny ears, bow tie and a cute cotton tail, posing her just so in the classic “Bunny Dip” (only my bendable Barbie would do). I imagined gracefully leaning her backwards while bending at the knee, her left knee lifted and tucked behind the right leg, all the better to serve Ken an eyeful along with his whiskey sour.

L) Vintage Playboy Bunny Illustration R) Vintage Barbie Fashions- Nighty Negligee

Sure she could seduce shy Allan in her “Naughty Nighty Negligee” with it’s matching pink boudoir slippers but it was no match for the allure of a form-fitting bunny costume. With her impossible figure Barbie was made in Hef heaven. No one would have filled out that rayon/satin merry widow corset better than Barbie.

Thus the Playboy Bunny remained a fantasy for me, just as Hef intended her to be, always just out of reach.

Literally.

Vintage Playboy Magazine Covers (L-R) April 1959, October 1962, and March 1962

Even in my local candy store, Playboy Magazine would be tucked high above my usual fare of Archie and Veronica with  their four-color  high school  hi jinx, so juvenile and innocent  while lurking just out of reach and out of prying fingers and prying eyes was the forbidden world of men’s entertainment .

If the Trix rabbit was for kids, the Playboy Bunny was definitely for adults. Vintage Playboy Magazine Covers

But as luck would have it one balmy August afternoon in 1962, an actual copy of Playboy fell into my lap. Carelessly left on a coffee table by my pal Susan’s absent-minded father, the magazine provided me with my very first eyeful of the world of a Playboy Bunny.

The reader was invited into “this glamorously decorated world of the Playboy Club -particularly and pleasurably playboys- a world replete with lush décor, top flight entertainment, epicurean edibles and potables and relaxation with a hiply fashioned flair. ” Playboy Bunnies at the Playboy Club, New Orleans, March 1962 photo Playboy

“The Living Room” in the Playboy Club,” offers the elegant comfort and tasteful furnishings one might find in a sophisticated bachelors apartment the enticement of a sumptuous buffet dinner for $1.50 which is also the price of all drinks.” Playboy Club 1962

Suddenly Susan’s  suburban den done up in Early American reproductions took on the worldly air of an urbane Playboy Club. Say, was that hipster Joey Bishop tossing down a highball with Sammy Davis Junior in the corner table? For days on end with Bobby Darren crooning in the background, my 7-year-old friend and I innocently pretended to play costumed cotton tail hostesses   at that ultimate swinging house party. And the best part was, no key needed!

Long before my feminist sensibilities would be aroused, no place seemed more sophisticated and glamorous than the Playboy Club, that bastion of male ogling designed to bring to life the pages of the magazine. The ultimate male watering hole where Playboy Bunnies romped and roamed freely was, their ads boasted, “where men come to observe remarkable displays of female pulchritude.”

Let’s Do the Bunny Hop

A look back in the rear view mirror of the world of the Playboy Bunny. Playboy Magazine cover April 1957

With Hugh Hefner’s passing, I became oddly nostalgic.

It’s worth hopping back now to those misty, glorious days of Camelot and see how a 1962 Playboy Magazine showcased one of their working Bunnies or, as they were referred to, “the hutch honey’s decorating the club premises”.

L) Women Against Pornography march 1970’s NYC. Photo: Freda Leinwand Schlesinger Library (R) Future Feminist Gloria Steinem goes undercover in 1963 as a Playboy Bunny

It was 1962 and it would be nearly a decade before feminists took Playboy and Hef to task. It would take 6 long years before a group of women libbers tossed, along with their bras, copies of Playboy magazine into trash bins at the Miss America Pageant. And it wouldn’t be until the following year that future feminist Gloria Steinem squeezing herself in to a too small bunny costume, infiltrated a Playboy Club as “Bunny Marie” and published an unflattering expose of Hef’s bunnies in captivity.

Still innocently mired in a Mad Men’s world of misogyny, in 1962 we were blissfully unaware that out handsome president was himself a playboy a serial womanizer who romped with the ultimate Playboy centerfold Miss Marilyn Monroe.

Lovely Jan Roberts Playboy Bunny at the Chicago. Photo Playboy Magazine August 1962 By Pompeo Posar

A popular feature of the magazine was the Bunny pictorial which presented The Playboy Club employees in class ic girl next door fashion. These photo essays became a prominent feature in Playboy – serving the dual purpose of promoting the clubs and helping sell more magazines.

In the August 1962 issue we are introduced to silver-blond Jan Roberts who: “cottons to the bunny business at Chicago’s Playboy Club”

“In the two plus years since the first Playboy Club bounded boldly onto the entertainment scene in Chicago, 24 of this magazines prettiest Playmates have taken the bountiful Bunny trail to fun, travel and excitement as highly paid hostesses in our ever lengthening chain of luxurious key clubs. With this issue we present a neat twist on the customary Playmate-to-bunny progression: she’s ingenious Jan Roberts- the first Playmate to be discovered among the hutch honeys already decorating club premises.”

Becoming a Playboy Bunny could open a lot of doors for a clever career girl who didn’t want to be stuck behind an adding machine. (R) A Playboy Bunny swings open the door to The Playboy Club New Orleans 1962

Snagging a job as a “Hutch Honey” was no easy feat.  Even Playboy’s training manual described being a bunny as “the top job in the country for a young girl.”

Becoming a bunny was a hop up the career path for any smart well-endowed cookie who wanted a job filled with excitement. Why take dictation and slave over an IBM Selectric when you could stand on your feet all day in high heels (demerits for wearing heels under 3 inches) and serve cocktails to lascivious men.

The first Playboy Club opened on Walton Street in downtown Chicago in Feb. 1960. Hefner was not the first to have images of buxom bunny’s dancing through his head. Chicago already boasted a chain of clubs named the Gaslight Club which had opened seven years earlier in 1953 and featured their own version of the Velveteen rabbit-curvaceous women in velvet one piece bunny costumes. Photo: Hefner surrounded by Bunnies at the opening of the Chicago Club 1960

By the hot summer of 1962, the Chicago Playboy club was hopping with business thanks to the Post-War-Post-Kinsey-Married Man and Hugh Hefner was poised to open several other clubs in a three-week span. As reported in the “Playboy Club News” in the same issue “Sophisticated revelry awaits key-holders and guests when the St Louis and New York Club swing open September 20 and October 11 respectively.

With all the new clubs multiplying like rabbits, Hef had to fill his lair with cottontail honeys.

Vintage ad for Playboy Bunny 1964

To attract future bunnies to fill the new clubs, Playboy ran ads announcing “casting sessions- staged like a call for a Broadway show.” Others proclaimed “This is show business the perfect opportunity for beautiful young ladies interested in a glamorous and rewarding career.”

“Travel Exciting part of a bunny life. If you are as attractive as Bunny Jan and between the ages of 18 and 25 you have the opportunity to become a Playboy Club Bunny. You couldn’t ask for a more glamorous and rewarding career.”

Her D Cup Runneth Over

Playboy Bunny/Playboy Centerfold Playmate Jan Roberts Playboy Club 1962 Photo:Playboy

Lovely Jan from the buckeye state would answer that siren call.

“Like hundreds of beauties from every part of the US and several foreign countries, Brooklyn-born, Toledo bred Jan stormed Chicago specifically in hopes of landing a job at the Playboy Club. Her credentials (executive girl Friday for the Juhl Advertising Agency of Elkhart Indiana and honor graduate of a 2 year medical technology course in the same city) were impressive enough to earn her a Bunny berth.

Playboy Bunnies went through rigorous training.There was a woman in charge of the Bunnies in each club, called the “Bunny Mother.” This was a human resources type of function The Bunny Mother was in charge of scheduling work shifts, hiring, firing and training. Before every shift the Club Manager would weigh each Bunny. Bunnies could not gain or lose more than one pound (exceptions being made for water retention)

Like Katherine Gibb’s Secretarial School,  the bunnies got their own strict training from The Official Bunny Training Program complete with its own manual,  before they could dare don a pair of bunny ears.

“The gorgeous Playboy Club Bunnies go through a rigorous and thorough training program designed to give them the savoir-faire desired in serving key holders. A Bunny must not only be beautiful; she must possess grace and charm. This is what a key holder expects and deserves – no matter if he is junior executive or senior cinema star.”

The manual was full of strict dos and don’ts.

The Playboy Bunny Manual R( 1968 ) was full of do’s and don’ts. The proper way to serve a drink as displayed by this New Orleans Play Boy Club Bunny in 1962

The Bunnies received demerits for un bunny like appearances or behavior. Woe the poor cottontail cutie with bunny ears not worn in the center of her head or bikini panties showing or heaven forbid, no panties at all! And there was no excuse for an unkempt tail. Bunny’s kept in shape by hopping on and off their Detecto scales lest they get a demerit for weight gained. Regular daily weigh-ins only allowed a one pound weight gain   (due to water retention)

Grooming tips were essential naturally, and girls were encouraged to enhance themselves any way they could  including stuffing their skimpy costumes with everything from gym socks to plastic dry cleaning bags to fill out the bust line.

Like her sister Bunnies at Playboy Clubs around the country Jan enjoys being “on” before admiring eyes of key holders

“Although the lissome (39-23-35) arrangement of her 120 compact pounds on a five foot five frame tends to belie it, Miss August prefers mental exercise to physical; she thrives on chess and bridge bouts, reads omnivorously (mostly books on mathematics and theology) dabbles in graphology and earnestly paints landscapes which bear she believes, “an unfortunate resemblance to my favorite foods-spaghetti and cheese blintzes. She can’t abide a sloppy pad, views beatniks with suspicious brown eyes, loves shoot-’em up war flicks and feminine frills

With her crackerjack math skills, Jan easily memorized all 143 brands of liquor required of all Bunnies and could garnish 20 cocktails in a wink.

Playboy Club members often wrote to Playboy requesting pictorials and information about their favorite cocktail waitress. Jan Roberts serving drinks at Chicago Club 1962

Playboy noted how skillfully Jan poured drinks for her customers. She also possessed “a very fine frame, which the key holder is free to visually enjoy while the beer is slowly, ever so slowly filling his glass.”

Affectionate by nature she is apt to greet friends with warm hugs and double cheek kisses.

But careful around the customers please!

“That nice Mr. Burton said I have curves in places where other girls don’t even have places.” Playboy Cartoon April 1966 by Don Lewis

A good bunny knew to be friendly but not too friendly. Bunnies were not allowed to date customers nor reveal their last names, telephone numbers or home address. Physical contact was a no no  but the manual pointed out that the girls were allowed to dance with patrons with acceptable dances like the Twist, Watusi and the Bugaboo.

Meeting a boyfriend or husband within 2 blocks of the club earned a strict reprimand. Maintaining yourself as the object of fantasy was key to the job of keeping keyholder’s happy. The illusion of availability was part of that.

A good bunny was also well versed in the delicate art of taming a wolf, without losing a customer.

Helpful hints from the manual suggested getting a fellow Bunny to spill drinks in the lap of an overly fresh patron, or quoting Shakespeare in the hopes of revealing ones intellect along with flesh.That would be a turn off for sure.

Happy Customer

Jan Roberts Playboy Bunny and Playboy Playmate Centerfold for August 1962 Photo Playboy by Pompeo Posar

“Jan regards her current welcome-to-the-club duties with honest satisfaction. ‘I’m interested in a show business career,” she says. ‘As a bunny, I’m already leading a show-biz kind of life. It’s a big step on the way up.” For a fetching view of rising and shining Jan consult the foldout where our breakfast Bunny Playmate is shown stating her day and brightening ours- with an RSVP smile.”

Yes, it was like a show business life since women faced weight and age regulations.

Even with Jan’s sterling credentials as a Girl Friday at an Ad Agency she knew learning shorthand didn’t automatically mean a girl could step into the job of her dreams. Like any smart career girl she understood – To open the right door often what was needed was a business skill your prospective boss can use. Her 39-23-35 “arrangement” was at the top of her resume.

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Copyright (©) 2017 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

Careless talk could lead to great suffering for a Gold Star Family. Today, Trumps careless, thoughtless talk has caused great suffering not only to Gold Star Families but to all Americans. Vintage WWII poster Artist Wesley 1944

“It’s incomprehensible for us as a country to see those families, of all people, jerked around and lied to and slimed and called liars by the president very shortly after these service members died.” Rachel Maddow

Beware of careless talk!

During WWII civilians on the home front were constantly warned to beware of unguarded, careless talk. Central to national security was the “loose lips sink ships” campaign which carried with it the potential for the loss of life. No one wanted to be responsible for contributing to yet another Gold Star Mother and adding to her pain.

Today Donald Trump’s careless talk has caused great anguish not only to Gold Star Families those cherished Americans who have made the ultimate sacrifice but to all Americans

Today, thin-skinned Donald Trump doesn’t know when to keep quiet.Vintage WWII poster

Gold Star Lies

This past week Donald Trump’s loose lips have created a firestorm of his own making, telling multiple despicable lies to and about Gold Star Families.

The week began with our Liar in Chief’s grandiose and false boasting that he has done more than all previous presidents when it came to compassionately consoling Gold Star Families. He outright lied on national television when he  claimed that unlike Obama he had called all military family members who had lost a loved one, causing deep pain to many Gold Star Mothers who have yet to receive a single condolence call from him,

Trump hit a new low a few days later when he next made a grieving widow cry.

That’s right…the alleged Consoler in Chief made a pregnant widow weep.

Myesha Johnson, the wife of a gallant Green Beret, Army Sgt. La David Johnson who was killed in Niger this month, cried from the President’s callousness during a delayed phone call ( saying her husband “knew what he was signing up for”)  and who did not have the decency to utter his name. Not once.

The phone call overheard by Florida Congresswoman Frederica Wilson said it was “horrible” and “insensitive.”

But thin-skinned Donald Trump doesn’t know when to keep quiet.

Trump lashed back retorting that the Congresswoman’s claim was fabricated and he had “proof.” Wilson firmly stood her ground saying unflinchingly:  “She (the widow) was in tears And she didn’t remember his name.”

The fallen hero’s aunt Cowanda Jones-Johnson, who raised him, confirmed the Congresswoman’s account telling the Washington Post “President Trump did disrespect my son and my daughter and also me and my husband.”

By publicly accusing the Congresswoman of concocting the story Trump is also dismissing the grieving family’s account, in essence saying they too are liars.

Who attacks a Gold Star Family?

Of course this is not the first time he’s picked a fight with a Gold Star Family

When an apology to a Gold Star Family would seem in order, Mr. Trump is uncharacteristically silent. Vintage WWII poster illustration Howard Scott

Last year, candidate Trump’s offensive and thoughtless remarks attacking the Khans, a patriotic Gold Star Family who have made the ultimate sacrifice, rightfully appalled decent Americans on both sides of the aisle.

Of one truth we can be certain -Our Liar in Chief lacks the basic empathy that is requires of a Commander in Chief.

One can only hope Donald’s own loose lips will sink his presidency.

Who Is a Gold Star Mother?

In this vintage ad from 1944 we can see the Sons of Service flag hanging in the dining room window, as Junior carves the Christmas turkey while dad is overseas. The flags were usually no larger than about one foot long. Hung vertically, a stick was sewn into the top heading of the flag and a piece of string attached to both ends of the stick to allow it to be suspended in front of a window.Vintage ad Carnation Milk WWII 1944

Gold Star Mothers was formed shortly after WWI to provide support for mothers who had lost sons or daughters during the war.

During WWI and WWII a Service Flag hanging in a family living room window was an all too common sight. A blue star in the center of the red bordered white field signified a family member in active duty in US military service.

If a family had multiple family members in the service of their country then additional blue stars were set into the white rectangle.

Little Blue Star in the Window Turns Gold

Careless talk could lead to great suffering and the ultimate sacrifice. In this vintage WWII poster by Artist Harry Anderson, the blue star on this grieving couples  flag would soon be covered with a gold star.

When WWI began claiming many lives a new flag developed. When a son or daughter was killed in action a gold star was sewn over the blue one.

The idea of the Gold Star was “that the honor and glory accorded the person for his supreme sacrifice in offering for his country, the last full measure of devotion and pride of the family in this sacrifice, rather than the sense of personal loss which would be represented by the mourning symbols.”

In May 1918 the Women’s Committee of National Defenses suggested to President Woodrow Wilson that those mothers who had lost a family member in the war should wear a black band on their upper-left arm, adorned with a gold star.  In a letter supporting this proposal, President Wilson referred to these women as “Gold Star Mothers.”

It was the beginning of a  new tradition of patriotic support for those who serve our Nation in uniform that continues today.

When an apology to a Gold Star Family  would seem in order, Mr. Trump is uncharacteristically silent.

 © Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Are we turning the youth of America into hard-core addicts?(R) “Assassin of Youth” was a 1937 propaganda film showing the ill effects of marijuana. The title was “borrowed from an article written by Harry Anslinger the head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics who succeeded in criminalizing marijuana. “Assassins of Youth” along with the classic “Reefer Madness” convinced the public that dope turned kids into crazed murderers.

Just Say No

Are we turning the youth of America into hard-core addicts?

Attorney General Jeff Sessions channeling Nancy Reagan and Reefer Madness said Americans should “just say no” to drugs warning that much addiction starts with Marijuana. One hit of a doobie  will  lead innocent youth of American down that dark ugly path to addiction. As the 1937 movie “Assassin of Youth” warned : “A Puff -A Party -A Tragedy!”

Assassin of Youth….Drugs or Oreos?

But there lurks a more dangerous substance far more addicting and life habit-forming.

Who could forget a study from a few years back where researchers at Connecticut College warned that Oreo cookies were  as addictive as cocaine- to lab rats.

A warning to parents: Keep the cookies away from the kids.

Concerned watchdogs have long kept an eye on substances corrupting the youth of America. Now we learned that the pull of that childhood cookie  is as powerful as a line of cocaine. Now we know why the kid in the  1952 ad says “I wish I had a million Oreos!”

And if the little tyke grows up to smoke marijuana, those Oreos could come in mighty handy.

Clearly, the poor little fellow is in the throes of addiction.
Vintage Oreos advertisement 1950

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A patriotic Santa comes to the aid of the Allies in this WWII Christmas advertisement for Interwoven Socks .

Just as both sides in a war claim God on their side, so WWII American’s enlisted Santa to help fight their battle.

This 1944 ad for Interwoven Socks should be filed under vintage advertising we are not likely to see ever again in our politically correct culture.

Claus For a Cause

In 1943 while FDR, and Churchill conferred in Casablanca, apparently Uncle Sam was having a hush-hush tete a tete with Santa Claus  in the North Pole, to strategize the war.

Appearing to wield powers far beyond those of mortal men- not unlike another super hero- Santa stomps out the Axis of Evil in one clean swoop of caricatures – Hitler, Mussolini and Tojo.

Clearly this ad should end the current Santa debate – Santa isn’t just white, he’s a red-blooded American!

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2017.

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Dreaming of a White Christmas

A bubbly toast to all my readers- Friends Always!

Let’s hope 2018 is a vintage year!

Long before Julia Louis Dreyfus served as Americas favorite Vice President, another TV celebrity with mega watt star power was seriously considered for the second banana spot. Well sort of, if you consider the top banana spot was to be filled by a megalomaniac best known for bankrupting casinos.

Today  that mega watt star Oprah Winfey’s name is  being bandied about not as Veep but as POTUS to run against that same megalomaniac, President  Donald Trump.

#Oprah4President2020 

The thunderous applause at the Golden Globes had not even quieted before twitter erupted in a cacophony of tweets imploring Oprah to run for president in 2020. After her rousing speech accepting the Cecil B. DeMill Award  #Oprah4Potus began trending on twitter.

A gushing Meryl Streep told the Washington Post “She launched a rocket tonight. I want her to run for President.”

The prospect of these two titans of TV, Winfrey vs Trump clashing for the coveted title of President of the United States in 2020 seems irresistible and tailor-made for social media.

1999

Ironically, our current Reality TV President seriously once considered the Queen of Talk as his potential running mate when the real estate mogul eyed a run for president in 1999.

Our political landscape has changed as dramatically as our culture has since the end of the Twentieth Century.

At that time we were still buying CD’s at Tower Records, that is when we weren’t waiting hours to download one song off of Napster and praying you wouldn’t be knocked off the internet while it downloaded. Not only did we carry both a beeper and a cell phone, we checked our email maybe every few days because we were so busy driving from Blockbuster to Blockbuster in search of a new release we wanted.

Oh, and we read actual books primarily because Oprah recommended them.

Some things from that year sound eerily familiar – the national tragedy of a mass school shooting at Columbine, talk of Presidential impeachment and speculation about Vladimir Putin. The last year of the century began with President Clinton’s acquittal in impeachment proceedings  and ended with Boris Yeltsin resigning as President of Russia elevating Prime Minister Vladimir Putin to acting President.

In 1999  The Donald had yet to reach his reality TV level of fame which was a good 5 years off into the future. Oprah on the other hand was a major TV star, a force to be reckoned with and  far richer than the N.Y. builder could ever hope for.

Their paths had crossed many times including interviews on her show,  and when Trump toyed with the idea of running for President on the Reform Party ticket he wanted Oprah as his running mate.

Trump told anyone who would listen his choice was Oprah. “I think,” he told TV host Larry King “we would be a very formidable choice. I love Oprah. Oprah would always be my first choice.”

Oprah and Trump a Media Match Made in Heaven?

Written by Donald Trump and author Dave Shiflett the book was published in January 2000 while Trump was considering running for president in that year’s election on the Reform Party Ticket

Foreshadowing his MAGA campaign in 2016, he released a book called “The America We Deserve,” not unsurprisingly a stream of consciousness whirlwind of free association, self-aggrandizement, and pseudo policy proposals that shift and be bop around erratically from one side of the ideological spectrum to the other.

In the book he wax’s poet about Oprah.

Trump goes on to cheer Oprah as “a literary kingmaker and queenmaker” who catapults “authors featured by her book club” to “the bestseller list.” These qualities, Trump wrote, are what make Oprah his ideal running mate.

“In early October I announced formation of a committee to explore a run for the presidency. At the time I announced that my first choice for vice president would be Oprah Winfrey,” he wrote. “If I can’t get Oprah,” Trump added. “I’d like someone like her.”

At the time, representatives from Winfrey’s camp politely declined Trump’s offer.

The Winfrey speculation was rampant enough that the media weighed in.

“We’ve no doubt Ms. Winfrey could offer many fine traits as vice president—chief among them the athletic ability to wrest Mr. Trump’s hand away from The Button—yet, we like to think the office requires slightly different skills from those of talk-show host,” argued an op-ed in the Newark Star-Ledger.

At the time, the idea of a TV Talk show host as vice president of the United States seemed as ludicrous and laughable as well,  that of a Reality TV star being President.

No one is laughing now.

The Hunger Games

The adoration and appetite for celebrity and the total disregard for experience that has become our new norm in the age of Trump, has brought us to this  place in history now.

It has been a recipe for disaster.

American politics and American governance is more than “uplifting” moments no matter how inspiring they are. With all due respect to Oprah, our hunger for her Presidential run points more to how severely undernourished we are for  real, substantive leadership.

Lets use our 20 20 hindsight in 2020.

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein

Trump’s Make America White Again agenda was never more evident than in his “sh*thole” remark.

Despite Trump’s protests to the contrary, white supremacists everywhere are proudly ironing out their white sheets knowing they’ve got a fellow racist in the oval office.

Or just as likely, now emboldened, they  are  tucking those sheets  away in their racist closet closets as there is no need to hide beneath those snowy white sheets of hate anymore.

Is this how we celebrate the legacy of Martin Luther King?

Heartened by our racist in chief who has given a wink and a nod to the darkest elements on our society, white nationalists have been crawling out from beneath the rocks where they’ve been hiding  to bask in the sooty air.

Make America White Again

I Have a Dream…that every voter in America marches to the polls this November and votes this GOP Congress out for refusing to stand up to Donald Trumps racism, bigotry and hate.

Presidents Trump’s vile and racist comments against accepting immigrants from what he called shithole countries in Central America, Africa, and the Caribbean arguing instead for more immigrants from countries like whiter than white  Norway, left neo Nazis like David Duke in a state of sheer  giddiness. Trump’s  not so quiet dog whistle signaled to hateful people that their views are gaining a foothold in this country.

The browning of America scares Donald-I-know-the-best-words-Trump sh*tless as it does to his base and all other “real” Americans.

As white nationalists celebrate Trumps shithole comments claiming he’s on the same page as them, the  rest of us have long turned that old and deeply soiled page of hate, never to return.

That is how we honor Dr King.

As the world teeters closer to the brink of nuclear war,  the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention holds a briefing today on how the public can prepare for a nuclear bomb.

It’s duck and cover deja vu all over again.

On the heels of the recent disastrous ballistic missile false alarm in Hawaii where Google searches on “how to survive a nuclear attack” spiked dramatically, the advice couldn’t come any quicker.

The somber announcement by the CDC came coincidentally right after the ominously named “Bomb Cyclone” winter storm hit the East Coast,  assuring the public they wanted to prepare us for a nuclear winter.

The CDC has gotten into the Civil Defense business taking a familiar stance on “preparedness,”  a word all to familiar to baby boomers when it was bandied about in the 1950’s and ’60’s to calm our nuclear jitters.

You would survive if you prepared.

Let’s hope today’s advice is a bit more practical than the one Civil Defense put forth in the Cold War.

Doctors Orders

Not unlike today, the mid-century medical community got involved in offering safety tips to prepare in the event of an atomic attack.

Flipping through a 1950’s medical guide  I noticed an entire chapter was devoted to the subject.

The bulky tome from 1951 entitled  The Pictorial Medical Guide published by Progress Research Corporation was written by a team of esteemed doctors and in those days your doctors word was as good as Uncle Sams. The guide  seemed geared to women readers  offering to “provide the woman of today with sound and authoritative counsel to give her care and cultivation of a healthy body and the conduct of a happy life.”

Including surviving an Atomic Bomb.

Placed logically in the chapter  labeled “Relief From Nervous Tension “ was a photo essay offering simple and easy to follow instruction for beating the Bomb.

Nervousness seemed to plague this age of anxiety and for good reason. Americans had a good case of the nuclear jitters where the prospect of a nuclear war between  Russia and the U.S. seemed inevitable.

The book  points  out “that civilized living breeds nervousness because we live in a state of turmoil often by trying to keep up with the Joneses.” In an age where the arms race was on full tilt with the Soviets we were more likely edgy from keeping up with the Ivanov’s  more than the Joneses.

But by following these sound and simple suggestions, your chances were pretty good on surviving; in fact they were pretty darn good.

Relax and Prepare

The nuclear family’s chances of surviving an nuclear bomb were good… if you learned and prepared

Your chances of escaping alive if you are in the area where an atomic  bomb explodes are better than is commonly believed,” they offer reassuringly.” A person one half to one mile away has a 50 -50 chance. Beyond 2 miles, the explosion will cause almost no deaths.

Much depends on whether or not your shelter is adequate. Concrete buildings with heavy steel frames are much safer than frame houses. Over all half bomb injures are the result of being tossed about or struck by falling and flying objects.”

Surviving an Atomic Attack

 In the Basement– When sirens sounds, turn off all utilities close doors and windows draw curtains and blinds and take shelter in your basement.

Get Under the Table– Hide under a table to protect yourself against falling plaster and flying objects. Bury your face in arms.

Hide in a Doorway -Try to shield yourself if caught unexpectedly out of doors. A deeply recessed doorway gives good protection. Prevent flash burns by shielding your face and eyes.

Against the Curb – By  dropping flat against the curb with the face toward it you are less likely to be tossed about or hit by debris.

Simple Precautions That Save Lives– At the time of an atomic bomb attack if there is no other shelter available crouch behind a tree for protection. Turn away from the blast and cover exposed skin by pulling your coat over your head. (Below) Mother caught out of doors with a baby carriage should dash into doorway, cover herself and baby with blanket.

 

How to Keep out Radioactive Dust– After a blast, you must take precautions to keep out radioactive dust or fog. Doors and windows should be kept closed. Cover over your fireplace.

Care of Injured– unskilled handling of injured persons is dangerous. Remove an injured person from scene of the fire only to save his life. otherwise wait for a physician to arrive.

 

Dust is Dangerous – If you find yourself in a contaminated area where there are clouds of dust or spray ( possibly radioactive) keep your mouth and nostrils covered with a handkerchief until you reach safety.

Scrub After Exposure-After a blast a good scrubbing will remove radioactive particles that may be clinging to the skin. Put on clean uncontaminated clothes.

Bury Clothes– Clothing that you have worn when exposed in a contaminated area may be dangerous. It is best to bury it-taking adequate precautions while you do.

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein

The real cognitive Test Trump took during his health exam. Donald gets a gold star when it comes to his cognitive ability and I have the proof.

“Nobody gets more gold stars than I do, believe me,” Donald Trump boasted after scoring high on his mental acuity test.

A huge sigh of relief could be heard from coast to coast  after Trump easily aced his cognitive assessment test with perfect scores. Finally Americans can stop worrying that our president is unfit to be anywhere near the nuclear codes.

Vintage School Workbook, “We Read More Pictures- The New Basic Reader” illustrated by Corinne Dillon 1951

Dr Ronny Jackson, little Donnie’s pediatrician, er…physician assured the concerned public that the Presidents “has absolutely no cognitive or mental issues whatsoever.”

In fact the doubting doctor didn’t even think the tests were necessary in the first place, but a determined Donald insisted and specifically asked for a cognitive ability exam.

Forget the Montreal Cognitive Assessment test they want you to believe Trump took. The real test he took looks suspiciously familiar.

The strenuous and challenging battery of tests divided into executive functions, memory,  language, attention and concentration,  stresses language development , emphasizing visual discrimination, eye and hand coordination, and thinking skills.

With crayon and pencil in hand a confident Donnie was able to complete the test in record-breaking time.

Here’s the proof:

Executive Functions

Vintage School Workbook, “We Read More- Pictures The New Basic Reader” illustrated by Corinne Dillon 1951

Donald showed excellent skills when it came to distinguishing differences in color.

Trump’s sharp motor skills and eye hand coordination were extraordinary for a man his age.

Memory and Language

Vintage school workbook – “Activity Book For Our Town” 1957

Vintage school workbook “Practice For Looking Ahead” 1957

Donald exhibited strong command of language proving what Trump has long pointed out, he has the best words.  Now we can see for ourselves.

Attention and Concentration

Vintage School Workbook, We Read More Pictures The New Basic Reader illustrated by Corinne Dillon 1951

Trumps ability to concentrate and comprehend logic and consequences should help relieve Americans who fret our President is unfit to be anywhere near the nuclear codes.

His skills at seeing differences is unparalleled.

No Gold Stars

The one test Donnie was unable to complete  due to the apparent complex nature of the problem was not revealed to the public until now.

Vintage School Workbook- “Using Words With Judgement” 1950

It must be noted  that when it comes to reading and comprehension, Donald did not score well at all and completely glossed over this exercise.

It was as if he did not care or was unable to grasp the facts.

#Sad

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein

Flu season sends chills through me. Literally

As the U.S. finds itself in the worst flu epidemic in years, I am chillingly reminded of flu epidemics past. Scary tales  of the devastating  flu epidemic of 1918 that haunted me through my childhood when member of my own grandmother’s well-to-do family were struck down and perished in the prime of their life come racing back.

Closer to home was the winter of 1957 when the Asiatic Flu terrorized the nation, and my own family.

A Chilly Cold War Winter

1957 was a gloomy winter; as bitter cold as Frost Bite Falls, and everyone was coming down with some ailment.

Despite all my Mothers  precautions  by early February she started sending out distress signals. Knocked out with the all too familiar quartet of body aches, fever, sniffles and cough, our germ proof house had been invaded; Mom got the flu.

As obsessed as my father was with the Cold War, my mother was equally concerned about the war on colds.

To each end they were constantly on alert for unseen, unknown, camouflaged enemies ready to insinuate themselves into our safe environment.

I was always told the best way to avoid contagious diseases, was to avoid any and all contact with anyone coughing or sneezing in your immediate perimeter. Like a heat seeking missile, a careless sneeze, or an explosive cough could shoot troublesome germs in your direction at a mile a minute speed.

Choose One from Column A  and One From Column B

Always convinced it was the sub gum chow mein that was the culprit for her cold, Mom was sure she had seen the waiter at Chung King Gardens, sneeze into her food. Dad, on the other hand, was sure the guilty party was to be found at Ming’s Chinese Laundry where Mom dropped off his shirts every week. Ming’s wife always seemed to have a hacking cough, as she sprayed his Van Heusen shirts with heavy starch.

Whatever the origin, that February Mom came down not with a cold but  with a nasty case of the Asiatic Flu that was spreading through the country.

Everyone was panicking- yet another invisible invader that could attack without warning. Like a Soviet Satellite, it was traveling around the world at alarming speed.

The flu was on the march, and health authorities everywhere were girding for battle against an epidemic. While the government was working like mad to get a vaccine available, that pesky little devil of a virus snuck into Moms bloodstream when no one was looking.

Just as an opportunist, Fidel Castro had recently emerged triumphant out of the groundswell of discontent in Cuba, so a run-down Mom had been susceptible to catch a virus. “Like the Communists in Cuba,” Dad grumbled derisively, “the flu had infiltrated the United States and established a beachhead in our very own home.”

According to Dad, the Castro menace was not imaginary.

That a bearded, bombastic young man on a small island could so menace an entire hemisphere seems almost inconceivable. But panicked Americans were convinced charismatic Castro and his Communist confederates were aiming to undermine the influence of the US and break its ties through Latin America.

We had to keep Castro’s poison from spreading any deeper.  Much like President Eisenhower, who wanted to rid our Western Hemisphere of the red rash just ninety miles from Florida, Mom wanted to halt further aggression of the flu on Western Park Drive.

The flu had brutally taken over much of the eastern seaboard this winter and like the insurgent Communists, posed a grave threat to the free healthy members of our house. Both situations required a corrective.

Asiatic Flu

 Asiatic flu was a new and highly infectious form of influenza which had originated in Red China.

Dad was certain this latest epidemic was true germ warfare, certain that Chairman Mao had something to do with the virus’s Great Leap Forward.

Previously, the Chinese had bitterly accused congenial, fair-minded Americans, of secretly using germ warfare during the Korean conflict, and now Dad was sure they were retaliating. The Chinese themselves were on the march towards massive power.

“The Red Army had a bloody record of aggression in Korea and Quemoy,” Dad griped, “and now their damn Commie Virus had invaded us.”

Fowl Play

Once Mom’s fever rose above 101, the cold war got hot.

Just as our government had devised “Operation Mongoose,” a plan to overthrow Castro’s regime, together my parents adopted a course of  preemptive and covert action that they hoped would work. The flu had penetrated through our fortifications, and a can-do-decisive Dad had a battle plan of his own: Operation Chicken Soup.

Jewish Penicillin

His Mission:  intercept and render the flu inoperable.

Dad quickly mobilized and called for reinforcements.  Acute care services were  brought in immediately.

On the right flank was family physician Dr. Epstein, a proponent of biological and chemical warfare. He was at a disadvantage in utilizing the new flu vaccine, knowing, sadly, it was too late to be effective. Imposing a containment policy for Mom, he ordered enforced bed rest, plenty of liquids and Bayer aspirin.

On the left flank my grandmother Nana Sadie, who would be deployed from Manhattan the next day at 0:800. A  decorated Veteran of the Flu Epidemic of 1918 she was armed to battle the enemy the best way she knew how, arriving loaded down with shopping bags filled with cans of disinfectants and a cache of secret ingredients for her chicken soup.

Despite the fact that mid-century doctors were at the pinnacle of authority figures, my grandmother had an inherent mistrust of Doctors, being of the opinion that most of them were just a step above witch doctors.

This distrust stemmed from her childhood and her own mother. Great Grandma might say “he’s a good doctor may we never need him! You know doctors, for every one thing they tell you, there are two things hidden under the tongue.” Jewish mothers may have wanted their own sons to become doctors, but didn’t want one visiting their house.

 Ever the trooper, Mom hated being barricaded in her bedroom. Even doped up on Nyquil, she found staying in bed demoralizing, and a dereliction of duty. She had been decommissioned from household operational services and now Nana Sadie would be deputized as chief cook and bottle washer.

Dad barked orders at all of us: Were we doing all we could in combating  infectious germs. Or were we complacent, while the insurgents try to seize power.

It was all out war.

Tomorrow PT II

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

Just like today, in the cold winter of 1957 the war against the flu raged. The dreaded Asiatic Flu that was spreading through the country, hit my own mother hard.

The flu was on the march and health authorities everywhere were girding for battle against an epidemic.

With my mother bed ridden and out of commission, my harried father called for reinforcements enlisting the help of my grandmother Nana Sadie who would be deployed to the Long Island suburbs from Manhattan. A decorated veteran of the Flu Epidemic of 1918, she was armed to battle the enemy the best way she knew how arriving loaded down with shopping bags filled with cans of disinfectants and a cache of secret ingredients for her chicken soup.

Air Defense

 Immediately upon landing the following morning, my Nana wasted no time. She would take the offensive with the pre-emptive striking power of Lysol, Lestoil and Listerine, to immobilize and incapacitate any rogue germs.

Boots on the ground, mink hat still on her head, Nana Sadie had us all gargling with Listerine. The first line of infiltration was the throat. You had to strike at throat infections before the germs got a foothold.

The warning signal – a tickle in the throat- nature’s way of saying “Look Out- Danger Ahead: the bacteria is getting the upper hand! The throat is an open door for infection laying out a welcome mat for all kinds of germs” Listerine ads cautioned ominously.

The next engagement was a full frontal attack on dirt. Every counter, every surface in the house was scoured and sanitized.

Operation: Air Borne.  

 Nana was certain the air was filled with dust and germs which could then be inhaled. The menacing fact about this potent flu virus was that when scattered by an infected sneeze, or a soiled hanky, it could continue to live in household dust and infect the whole family with the flu even six weeks later!

With knowledge gained from the 1918 Influenza epidemic  Nana explained, “spittle contains many little disease germs and when the spittle dries these little germs are set free, caught by the wind and begin to fly about.”

Therefore, reinforcements of Kleenex were constantly being supplied to the front lines.

Tucked into her sleeve, or balled up in her pocket, Nana never went anywhere without a tissue at the ready, her first line of defense against deadly germs.

To her, the invention of Kleenex was a modern miracle of science, rivaling sulfa drugs and penicillin in saving mankind. With the simple toss of a disposable Kleenex into a waste basket, you were wiping out thousands of dangerous enemies, and saving countless lives.

When the miracle that was Kleenex first appeared, even the box itself was proclaimed a marvel of ingenuity, and modern design, “….. cleverly made to hand out automatically through a narrow slit, two tissues at a time ( the correct number for a treatment).”

 1918 Flu Epidemic

As a veteran of the first and worst flu epidemic ever, old fears and suspicion born of that war had scarred Nana Sadie for life. An otherwise healthy brother and sister both in their early twenties had perished in the epidemic.

The public, in 1918 was petrified of the Flu.

It was a panicky time, when everyone and everything became suspect of contamination mirroring the Red Scare which had reached near hysteria that very year. Provoked by a fear that a Bolshevik revolution in America was imminent – a revolution that would destroy the American Way of Life, ordinary people became suspect of being Anarchists and Communists.

So it was with the Influenza, when even everyday items such as handkerchiefs came under scrutiny and attack.

Those lovely embroidered, heirloom hankies that every proper lady, gentleman and well brought up child always carried- might well be aiding and abetting unseen armies of influenza germs, rendering your dainty, lace trimmed hanky as dangerous as any incendiary device. Carelessness on your part and suddenly your monogrammed handkerchief, harboring germs, could be turned into a weapon of bio-terrorism threatening you and your terror-stricken neighbors with the dread menace of infection.

Fear ran so deep that handkerchiefs were stigmatized as dangerous transmitters of the flu, and people frantically resorted to using pieces of linen in their stead, which were then subsequently burned.

Although hankies eventually came back into favor, and Nana, like my mother, always carried an ironed and neatly folded hanky in her pocketbook, she would never dream of blowing her nose in one. Dabbing an eye at a three hanky movie maybe, but generally handkerchiefs were rendered inoperable.

And if health wasn’t an incentive, vanity was. Kleenex promised the flapper it would  keep her girlish figure. “Now I’m streamlined,’ boasted one young modern. “Carrying four or five hankies in my pocket during colds made my figure bumpy in the wrong places! Now I carry Kleenex and I’m in good shape again!”

Air Control

As head of tactical air control, Nana deployed the aerosol Lysol to fumigate the house of any biological agent, followed by the immediate opening up all the windows to let in plenty of frigid fresh air.

Sunshine and fresh air were the best deterrents to all illness Nana informed us.

Sick people she was convinced, needed air support, the more fresh air they get, the quicker they were likely to heal.

But only if you avoided drafts at all costs.

How you could  distinguish between blasts of healthful, fresh Arctic air and dangerous drafts was beyond me. And don’t even think of raising the thermostat. Overheated homes were a recruitment center for pneumonia and TB.

Nana had definite ideas how the body worked and how it could be healed.

The open windows theory, heavily promoted in previous decades, went that people who breathe the same stale air over and over run the risk of catching some dreadful disease, for along with the air, the lungs blow out tiny germs of sickness. These are too small to be seen and if there were plenty of fresh air in the room, they would rise up to the ceiling, float out the windows, be caught by the wind and carried high in the air where the hot sun would soon kill them.

If these germs can’t get out of the room they are apt to be drawn into the lungs of any person who isn’t well and there they are sure to grow and make that person very ill.

Her other strategy was a series of incendiary attacks. She would fight fire with fire.

Any remedy that made you perspire was good. You couldn’t possibly get well “until you worked up a good shvitz”, she believed, so a vaporizer was stationed next to Mom’s head, so hot it made the wallpaper perspire. Great puffs of mushrooming steam clouded the room so Mom couldn’t even be seen through the haze.

Fowl Ball

Jewish Penicillin

By themselves, these methods did not seem sufficient.

We were poised to unleash a powerful weapon to win the cold war- Jewish Penicillin.

Chicken soup, clear, sparkling, golden-colored, was Nana’s secret weapon. Antihistamine, decongestant, expectorant all in one, the golden broth would blast the virus to smithereens, the accompanying Matzo balls, delivering the 1-2 punch.

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

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Remembrances of  Flu Epidemics Past

Military Might garishly displayed seems so darn un-American, but in fact it’s rather retro.

While we might recoil at the idea of a Soviet style military hardware parade rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue, during the Cold War Americans were far from shy about boasting and flaunting our military might. And we did it in that most American of ways – in big, bold, colorful advertisements.

“American air power has become so important that its strength or weakness can mean the difference between winning, losing ,or preventing another World War.” United Aircraft Corporation Ad 1953

These easy on the eyes advertisements found in the pages of our most popular periodicals were a veritable post war pageant of our power and prosperity, showcasing the force of Americas war machine.

New and Improved

Nestled between ads for Instant Maxwell House Coffee and  Ford Fairlanes in the latest issue of Life were lavish full-page, four-color ads for the latest fighter jet or guided missile. A veritable parade of military might could be admired from the comfort of your own Naugahyde Barca Lounger while flipping through Time Magazine.

In a marriage made in Pentagon heaven, the mad men of Madison Avenue in conjunction with the Military Industrial Complex churned out dozens upon dozens of ads in military precision during the 1950’s. These ads  served as a visual reminder of our unparalleled strength, instilling pride in our Global leadership while helping to bolster a panicked public that America was were ready to fight, protect and attack if necessary.

Defense companies like Lockheed, Grumman, and United Aircraft Corporation bloated with government contracts had no problem spending some of that cash on lavishly illustrated ads to thrill us with their latest technological marvels.

And marvel we did

Vintage ad 1954 Convair. Nuclear capacity “Guardians of Peace”

Missiles with that 100 million dollar look… new kinds of fighter jets swifter smoother  more accurate in its destruction, jets in daring new styling to capture the heart of a nation… guided missiles light years ahead of our competitors with a new kind of destruction never thought possible.

Vintage ad Sperry 1954 Time magazine

Vintage ad 1958 Chance Vought Aircraft

Vintage ad 1956 Chance Vought Aircraft

To see and experience this newness was something every American owed to his pocketbook and his heart.

Not to mention his nerves.

Cold War Jitters

“In the event of a surprise attack with today’s weapons a single bomb could wipe out a whole area.” 1955 Ad Martin

Cold war Americans had a bad case of nuclear jitters.

The threat of attack loomed large. With the Ruskies breathing down our necks  e needed protection. Fast. Fighter Jets a fast acting as Alka Seltzer.

The very thought of Soviet technological supremacy, especially military supremacy sent off a chain reaction of panic, rising fear levels and soaring defense spending. “To succeed in preventing war our Air Force Power must be strong enough to discourage aggression before it starts. This meant aircraft that are ready for retaliation,” warned an 1954 ad from United Aircraft Corporation.

We would pay any price, bear any burden to fill any Missile gap.

The thrilling new jets and missiles filled with advances and exclusive features  expressed a confidence in the future and assured a shaky nation there would indeed be a future to look forward to.

Suitable For Framing

During the Korea war Grumman proudly announced its newest turbo jet the Cougar was combat ready for fleet operation. The Cougar was an even faster swept wing successor to the famous Panther. Vintage ad Grumman 1951

Seeing American military might in vivid living color, put our cold war minds at rest, as well as justifying the enormous costs to our defense department. What a lift to the spirits when during the Korean war a reproduction of this beautiful illustration from the 1951  Grumman ad was offered to readers text-free and free of charge.

Suitable for framing, this charming testament to the fight for freedom depicting fighting jets carrying destruction to the Reds very doorstep, would be right at home in any mid-century  den. It fit so perfectly with the early American décor so popular in the smartest of suburban homes, making you the envy of your friends.

And after all isn’t that the American way?.

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

A Presidents’ Day Memory from the vault.

Holy Satire, Batman, Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird… it’s a plane….its SuperLBJ!

1966 was a year when comic strip superheroes POP! came to life and real life heroes SOCK! appeared in the comics. While that caped crusader Batman got his own hit TV show and the Man of Steel Superman starred in his own Broadway musical, The President of the United States Lyndon Baines Johnson got his own comic book.

The Great Society Comic Book published in 1966 was a political satire of the Johnson administration and his Great Society programs. Lampooning political figures cast as superheroes, it followed the adventures of SuperLBJ.

Comic books, a place where bright colors forever defeat darkness and good forever triumphed over evil was the  perfect metaphor for the noble venture of  LBJ’s Great Society .

A Great Society

Lyndon Johnson wanted to build a great society for all Americans.

His Great Society was a set of ambitious domestic programs aimed at eliminating poverty and social injustice. LBJ’s vision dovetailed thoroughly with the American Dream of a more perfect society, representing the hope and idealism of liberal mid-century America.

With powers and abilities and ego far beyond those of mortal men,LBJ  would pass more bills for his Great Society than any other president in history. In sweep and scope he rivaled FDR’s New Deal, improving the lives of millions of Americans.

In today’s environment of legislative stalemate it is awe-inspiring.

Yet he is best remembered for the tragic debacle of  Vietnam.

History

Hold it Reader! We know the question spinning through your mind How did this turn of events come about? For the answer let’s go back in time.

Like Superman, LBJ was a product of the Depression of 1930s.

(R) Cover illustration of Lyndon Johnson as Minority Leader of the senate Time Magazine June 1953 (L) Superman as Clark Kent goes to college

Unlike Superman, who disguised as timid Clark Kent  was mocked as a freshman in college,  freshman Lyndon Johnson rode into Congress  like the wild bronco from Texas that he was, commanding respect.

A New Deal democrat he was in awe of Roosevelt’s progressive programs that included public works projects that moved mountains, changed the flow of mighty rivers and raised buildings that touched the clouds. In many ways it seemed as if anything was possible of Americans.

A true political operator, Johnson rose to power eventually  becoming House Majority leader. The Texas size  6 ft 3″ 204 pound hunk of perpetual motion was renowned for his domineering personality and the “Johnson Treatment” -he was not shy in his coercion of powerful politicians in order to advance his legislation.

Powerful as Senate Majority leader he would be  sapped of his power as Vice President  and presided in the shadow of President Kennedy after JFK’s assassination. Though the hold of the Kennedy legend on the American imagination was still powerful, after November 1964 he was elected to the presidency in his  own right.

JFK had been mythologized into a hero of mythic proportions, but LBJ would be no ordinary hero- he would be a superhero fighting the never-ending battle of truth, justice and the American way.

President SuperLBJ

Art imitates life when (R)Jimmy Olsen imagines Superman as President of the United States in this vintage comic and (L) life imitates art when Lyndon Johnson appears as SuperLBJ in The Great Society Comic Book 1966

Taking office as president with his unlimited super powers and unwavering commitment to truth, justice and the American way, LBJ vowed, like Superman, to spend his days fighting crime, injustice and helping those in need.

Danger and challenge were nothing new to SuperLBJ who warded off all threats with his quick thinking, resourcefulness and his superb legislative skills. But now faced with  menaces so formidable that ordinary powers were not enough, the caped crusader would become superlegislator.

Confronted with urban decay, poverty, crime and civil injustice, SuperLBJ  would protect and serve the powerless and innocent becoming the champion of the oppressed.

With supersonic speed he passed more legislation than thought humanly possible with cunning and determination far beyond that of mortal lawmakers, as a blizzard of Great Society legislation swept through Congress.

Zap! He would eliminate racial discrimination with historic Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965  and Pow! Poverty and urban decay would be eradicated with his War on Poverty! Bam! Medicare !Wham! Medicaid! Zow! Education, immigration, environment, the arts!

For a year the world  watched in awe as SuperLBJ   used his amazing array of superpowers.

Vietnam

While LBJ dreamed of a Great Society his presidency was haunted by the specter of Vietnam. As SuperLBJ he believed he could support both guns and butter, but soon much of the funding he had hoped to spend on social reforms went towards war in South East Asia.

The escalation of bombing in Vietnam was not working. Even Robert McNamara, Secretary of Defense in his administration was losing confidence in the ability of the massive bombing to bring the enemy to its knees.

Superman’s biggest battle with the Super Gorilla from Krypton who appears invulnerable to all of Superman’s attacks

Just as Superman  met his challenge with a super beast who seemed immune to his strength and powers, Vietnam would be the Monkeys on LBJ’s back.

By fall of 1966, the conservative Congress goaded LBJ on passing huge military appropriations bills encouraging him to sink ever deeper in the Vietnam mire.

When Superman was president, he solves the National Budget crisis

Behind a veil of secrecy the war escalated and the cost of the war skyrocketed.  The press had sensed a credibility gap between what LBJ was saying in press conferences and what was happening in Vietnam. But LBJ was passing huge amounts of social legislation through Congress. If the true cost of the war were known, LBJ  feared that the Great Society would come to a shuddering stop.

Unlike the comics, there was no hidden buried treasure; even Superman couldn’t pull off guns and butter

Vietnam would be LBJ’s kryptonite sapping him of power, money and dreams

By the end of 1966, Vietnam would turn out to be LBJ’s kryptonite sapping him of his strength, funding and dreams of a Great Society.

Just as Batman’s final episode would be in 1968, so LBJ bowed out of politics by announcing on March 1968 national television that he would not run for a second term as president. His decision was in large part a consequence of declining public support, a credibility gap for his policies in Vietnam.

Copyright (©) 2018 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

It’s safe to say that this 1950 Lifesavers ad that ran in Life Magazine would never appear today.

Among the collection of vintage advertising we’re likely never to see today can be added this 1950 advertisement for Lifesaver’s Pep o Mint.

Thinking nothing wrong in using black face to advertise their candy one even half expects the tag line in the ad to read: “Dem pep-o-mints sho’ ams’ swell”

Offensive? Certainly.

Today’s reader rightfully so, recoils at the sight of this imagery long associated with retrograde ideas about race and class.

But in 1950, the Civil Rights Movement was in its infancy; family friendly Life Magazine happily ran this Lifesavers ad  even as Jim Crow laws were well and alive in the deep south.

Blackface comedy sketches and musical numbers grew out of the minstrel shows of the pre Civil War era in which African Americans were portrayed in degrading terms, childlike, superstitious and lazy.
Vintage Halftone Illustration from “Gentlemen Be Seated” by Dailey Paskman 1928

Though we think of the black face minstrel as part of a popular form of entertainment in 19^th century America, blackface comedians and singers were a popular form of entertainment well into the 20^th century.

It was not uncommon well into the 1950s for High Schools, fraternities and local theater groups to perform in blackface.

While the real mad men of Madison Avenue had no compunction utilizing blackface to sell their products, who can forget the shocking scene when Mad Men’s Roger Sterling wearing blackface, serenaded his young bride.

It was not until the civil rights movement really took off in the mid 1950s and 1960s that performing in blackface fell into disrepute.

Not disputing the fact blackface was and is an embodiment of racism, perpetuating hateful stereotypes, it is hard to condemn well intended entertainers of an earlier time for not meeting our contemporary standard of sensitivity.

Those who smeared bunt cork on their faces decades ago were not inherently evil.

In the early and mid 20^th century Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor famously wore blackface and Hollywood thought nothing of putting blackface on such white stars as Fred Astaire, Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, to name just a few. These stars weren’t racist and they had no idea how hateful their blackface performances would seem to us decades later.

Today, however,  there is no excuse.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Are we off on the cold war arms race again?

As the supersizing of the superpowers begins anew, let the nuclear sabre rattling begin .

With Putin boasting about his powerful invincible nuclear weapons and Trump wanting to ramp up America’s nuclear arsenal for fear we’ve fallen behind, this nuclear arsenal ambition is déjà vu. all over again.

The big chill of the cold war seems a bit too close for comfort.

Supersizing the Superpower

For those of us who grew up during the 1950’s and 1960’s the cold war culture of  an arms race  was a subtext of our lives. It was a time when most Americans assumed the Unites States and the Soviets stood continually on the brink of nuclear war.

With the threat of  nuclear attack breathing down our necks, and our misguided fear of a gaping missile gap, we needed to build up our arsenal of nuclear  weapons, pronto.

When it came to Super Powers, American’s have long  believed in supersizing.

Land of Good and Plenty

(Detail) Supersizing the Superpower collage of appropriated images by Sally Edelstein

After all, mid century American’s  were the most envied people on the planet. You couldn’t help but stand and admire us and our technological know how and might.

Running rings around all others, no other country so accented the march of new ideas. Big trends begin in America. The USA stood ever ready with a more confident answer to all the demands of modern living.

Whether bombs, breasts or Buicks, bigger was better.

The magicians of Madison Avenue were working their magic in tandem with the MAD  men of the Military Industrial Complex working double time fusing a double set of desires for the nuclear family for more weapons of mass destruction and more ease of living-  Mutually Assured Destruction and Mutually Assured Consumption.

How Do You Rate?

With more bounce and zoom in every step, we could run faster, jump higher and win more often.

And in the dawn of the space age, it was to be America, naturally, who would steer us into space braving the dangers of the cosmic frontiers, safeguarding the cause of universal peace and freedom.

Off to the Arms Race

(Detail) Supersizing the Superpower collage of appropriated images by Sally Edelstein

However, in 1957 when the Russians successfully launched Sputnik, the first man made satellite into space, we were shaken to the core. The very thought of Soviet technological supremacy in missile supremacy sent off a chain reaction of panic, ring fear levels and soaring defense spending. We would pay any price, bear any burden to fill any Missile gap.

Play Your Hunch

In the age of post war plenty, we had plenty to fear.

At a push of a button, a turn of a dial… Presto…it could all disappear if we didn’t defend them properly. It was critical to deter a nuclear war by keeping nuclear superiority. To live in peace, the cold war credo went we must have power.

Beat the Clock

( Detail) Supersizing the Superpower collage of appropriated images by Sally Edelstein

Like  contestants on the Game Show “Beat the Clock” we were thrust into an arms race with the Russians. By successfully launching a man made satellite into space, the Soviets had won the first lighting round and moved into the bonus stunts winning that challenge with the development of the ICBM.

Win Lose or Draw

Smugly the Soviets boasted: “Maybe next time will be your time to “Beat The Clock.”

Now like two contestants with fingers on the buzzer the first hot headed cold warrior to push the button- ding-ding-ding, would be “Winner Take All!” Of course in order to beat the clock we would first be playing “Break the Bank.”

Nuclear weapons both to protect and threaten became  the icons of the Cold War.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2018.

I Dreamed I Was Part Of The Me Too Movement In My Maidenform Bra

Thanks to the Me Too Movement women have taken the bull by the horn stating loudly that sexual misconduct and abuse is no longer acceptable.

The rampant mistreatment of women in the workplace has been exposed, as exposed as the conical bra clad women were in the infamous “I Dreamed” series of mid-century ads from Maidenform.

Times Up

Seen through the prism of the current #MeToo movement, these iconic Maidenform ads are a lot more ironic.

Especially during Oscar season.

The series of advertisements  that ran for nearly two decades featuring bra attired women in unlikely, often traditional “manly” situations seem to confirm what women already suspected – a shapely figure was a stepping stone to career advancement.

Yes, nothing said dress for success more than coming to work with no clothes on above the waist except  a boss-pleasing bra that promised  an uplift to any career move.

Maidenform took to Hollywood in one of their I Dreamed ads. After all doesn’t the dream of every young gal contain a chance at Hollywood?

Unintentionally these revealing ads reveal a truth about Hollywood. A casting couch and a conical-shaped bra were a match made in Hollywood heaven.

But as Hollywood has recently exposed what we long knew,  many of these dreams turned into nightmares.

And The Oscar Goes to… Maidenform

“I Dreamed I Won the Academy Awards in My Maidenform Bra ran in 1953. The Me Too movement cloud hung over the Oscars as Hollywood has shone a glaring klieg light on the rampant sexual misconduct .

“I’m the brightest star in cinema circles…the leading figure among filmland’s dream girls.

With Maidenform’s bra in the supporting role, mine is the best rounded performance of the year”

And the Oscar for best rounded performance goes to…

Sally Starr was Hollywood’s newest wonder girl in 1953.

Ever wonder how she got there?

Her life was the stuff of daydreams. There may be luckier gals in the world, but if there are this statuesque beauty didn’t know  them. She was living the glamorous life in Hollywood…lunch at the Brown Derby and Romanoffs, spotted nightclubbing  with the stars at Ciros.

Her life was a whirl of gaiety and excitement.  And now as an Academy Award winner she was the envy of practically every actress in Hollywood.

Naturally in her acceptance speech she understood more than most that she should thank Maidenform for getting her where she is. Because no bra does so much for your figure…and career. And Sally Star proved it. Hard work sure, but Maiedenform catapulted her and her shapely bosom to this dazzling place.

So how did this small town gal pull off this trick?

Are You Ready For Your Casting Couch?

I Dreamed I Had a Screen Tests in my Maidenform Bra . Vintage ad 1950

“Lights Camera! Action! I never felt so like a star…and all because my Maidenform bra plays my best supporting role! See why Maidenform and I make such a rave notice picture? See why Maidenform is your dreams bra come true!”

A happy, well-adjusted girl takes a look in her mirror one morning and knows she’s Hollywood Bound.

Like most mid-century gals, small town Sally was star struck, catching the Hollywood bug fast and hard. With acting and voice lessons under her belt, this mid western Miss  began saving her money for her chance at a big studio screen test and the silver screen.

But when it came, she fluffed it.

The director took one quick look at her and Sally knew she goofed. Her smart, borrowed but button downed  Don Loper number  was not what the director wanted. Or expected.

Sally Get’s Wise to the Ways of Hollywood

Sally knew a change in her hair-do would not be enough to catch his eye. It wasn’t long before a pal wised up this sob sister to the ways of Hollywood. The right amount of uplift would uplift her career giving it the boost she needed.

A screen test was a more hands on proposition, her pal explained to Sally. And if she wanted to be taken seriously she intended to be more hands on. The answer- a Maidenform Bra. All starlets knew Hollywood stars could afford any bra – and still they insist on Maidenform. Why? Because no bra does so much for your figure, your love life …and especially your career.

Every gal worth her salt knew being attended by an interested man was the ultimate feminine goal.

Ready For My Close Up

Lucky for her, Sally’s next screen test was a success. Her Maidenform and she got rave notices.

This time she was ready for her close up.

Before she knew it,  it was Lights! Camera! and Action! and boy, oh boy was there plenty of action!

Of course there were things that no one could know. Even as Sally let her brain form the thought she discarded it. The door closed. Forever. She was a star.

All that mattered was Sally Starr was on her way to a brilliant, career. Her Maidenform defined her figure and her career…beautifully.

Hopefully the days of demanding sexual favors in return for career advancement will now seem as outdated as these vintage ads are.

Tomorrow:  Career Advancement – Dream On -Maidenform Dream Ads

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2018.

Have we at long last begun the end to senseless gun violence?

In July 1969, a full-page ad in the Sunday  N.Y. Times posed a request to the American public:

Hold onto this page for 1 year and hope and pray it’s ended.

The hopeful ad  appeared  one  year after the assassination of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, and 6 years after the shooting  of President John Kennedy. The copy reads:

  The trouble is hoping and praying isn’t enough

Violence won’t end unless you’re willing

to start the ending.

I have held onto to this yellowing page for nearly 50 years, the hope for the end of gun violence  nearly extinguished.

After the energy, passion and commitment of today’s youth to end gun violence powerfully demonstrated this past weekend in the hundreds of March For Our Lives rallies that took place across the country and across the globe,  a glimmer of hope has finally been ignited.

Perhaps they have started the ending. Let’s all hope so.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2018

It was a post war Passover plot worthy of the Russians; a cold war caper to rival anything Julius and Ethel Rosenberg cooked up.

A top-secret stolen – during the Jewish holiday of  Passover nonetheless – riveted my suburban neighborhood in the spring of 1958

Known as  Operation: Matzoh Ball  it was filled with more than matzo meal – it was loaded with espionage, scandal and treachery. The stuff of legends, this Passover plot was hotly debated over kaffeee klatches for years.  Some claimed foul ball others dismissed it as pure paranoid fantasy.

The dispute continues to this day.

Long before we worried about the infiltration of Russian bots, cold war Americans panicked about Russian spies

By the late 1950’s the cold war had congealed as quickly as a cold bowl of chicken soup.

Americans were still simmering in a brew of paranoia, fear  and suspicion when it  came to the Ruskies.   Communists were sneaky plotters – Russian  spies  could be lurking undetected right in your own backyard. Still haunted by the specter of the Rosenbergs, tried and executed for their treasonous act only a few years earlier,  remnants of the red scare still dictated the mindset of the public.

It was against this backdrop that this mid-century  matzoh ball mystery occurred.

Passover Plot

In late March of 1958 with Passover only weeks away, my mother was felled by a surprise attack of a migraine.

Since she was a teen, poor Mom suffered from migraine headaches which along with the excruciating pain made her sensitive to both light and noise. Sometimes her headaches burst upon her with a terrifying suddenness, others, like that day a bright flash of light would give her a  20 minute warning signal. No matter how much Anacin she stockpiled in her arsenal of pain relief, it was woefully inadequate in the face of this massive headache.

Manhattan Project

Bedridden and burdened with the preparation of a big family Seder looming ahead, Mom called in for reinforcements. Always on 24 hour standby, my grandmother Nana Sadie marched in from Manhattan. Loaded down with shopping bags full of holiday goodies she was prepared to do battle on the kitchen front.

A massive cooking effort began.

It wasn’t long before Nana’s rich chicken soup with its golden color  and soothing aroma  filled the house, gently wafting out the open windows for all the neighbors to savor.

But even more famous than her chicken soup, was Nana’s matzo balls which were legendary in their melt-in-your-mouth lightness and fluffiness.

Matzo balls were for my grandmother the measure of a good cook’s ability.

Her balls were always Boombeh (huge) and never Shtickels (little pieces).

Top Secret

The matzo ball recipe, handed down from her mother, my Great- Grandma Posner, was closely guarded, so top-secret, no one but Mom had access to the highly classified information.

Now access to the kitchen required security clearance, and was determined by need-to-know.

No one doubted that something dramatic had been cooking in the kitchen.

Kitchen Confidential

Her recipe was highly coveted – the manner in which she got her batter to reach those heavenly heights was strictly confidential. All the women of B’nai Brith begged her, and the Hadassah ladies tried to hondlen with her. Neighbors nagged and friends became frosty, when she refused.

Mom too, was used to the sidelong glances from the gals of Sisterhood who scrutinized, and analyzed trying to break the code for the sacred recipe. Which brand of matzo meal- Horowitz Bros.& Margareten, or Manishewitz? Maybe Streits was the secret.

Did she use Cotts Club Soda, or stiffly beaten egg whites; oil or schmaltz or, God-Forbid-butter?  No matter how hard others tried to cajole, coerce, and extract the information, their lips were sealed.

Second Rate

It rankled our neighbor, Natalie Moscowitz  especially with Passover approaching. Her matzo balls were puny, the size of golf balls and almost as hard; they had to be skewered with a fork, while digging in with a spoon to avoid shooting them out of your bowl across the table.

More than anything else, the coveted recipe had become a symbol throughout the neighborhood of  Mom’s prowess in the kitchen; those  soft, voluptuous orbs bobbing in a sea of broth, those bewitching balls, a demonstration of her religious fitness and  holiday efficiency.

As a powerful symbol of Mom’s technological might, the matzo ball recipe was ipso facto something Mrs. Moscowitz had to have.

The Outsider

As Mom regained her strength and her migraine dissipating, exchanges between my brother Andy and myself heated up. Small skirmishes continued to erupt throughout the day.

Exasperated and still sensitive to noise, Mom decided an outside, rapid response force needed to be called in to deal with us.

Mrs. Moscowitz  had helpfully suggested the services of her teenage niece Julie who lived not far away on Verona Avenue. Julie Rosensweig could be deployed on a short notice and since she had previously baby sat for us she wouldn’t need clearance.

Or so we thought.

Fowl Play

In retrospect, how were we to know that something dangerous would be entering our house undetected ? Like the sneaky Communists, treacherous decoys could infiltrate as friends and neighbors setting off a chain reaction that would reverberate for years.

It didn’t take long before Nana had proof positive that the Moscowitzes were up to no good. Someone had stolen her secret matzo ball recipe.

Within a few days there was a sudden proliferation of fluffy, light-as-air matzo balls up and down the block. Before you knew it, every neighbor would be serving Nana’s chicken soup and matzo balls for Passover.

Loose Talk Is a Chain Reaction For Espionage

Since the formula was top-secret and Nana prohibited dissemination of information about the matzo balls construction, it must have been espionage that allowed Natalie Moscowitz to penetrate our kitchen and test it. Stealing the recipe confirmed for Mom the Moscowitz’s general duplicity and untrustworthiness.

Each new disclosure, fully substantiated or not, was greeted with a kind of knowing sneer  by Mom.

On the defensive, Natalie said that to imply that she stole the recipe, would suggest that Nana Sadie was the only source of kneidel knowledge  and therefore anyone who learned to do it must have discovered the Posner’s secret formula.

But yes, Mrs. Moscowitz did in fact learn by espionage at Moms house, information about the physics of matzo balls.

A good ball has a solid central mass; the correct leavening was essential  to produce the trapped gases and ultimate release of carbon dioxide, providing the propulsion required to expel the  large amounts of energy locked up in the ball’s nucleus. The timing, and cooling period had to be carefully monitored, the density and ratio of fat to liquid to matzoh meal had to be precisely calculated.

Chain Reaction

It was Julie with her infiltration tactics, who provided specific data on the design of the Matzo Ball.

Julie’s mother, Ethel Rosensweig, a Home-Ec teacher  was a top-secret formula  breaker, who upon questioning, seemed to have substantial knowledge of the recipe.

Julie provided  Mrs. Moscowitz a good deal of information on the correct placement of ingredients most likely to start a chain reaction in order for the spheres to implode on impact resulting in  matzo balls that were Boombeh’s.

She provided a considerable packet of information including several sketches of molds that could be used to make the proper size, critical to the balls implosive core. The correct diameter was crucial; a few centimeters off in either direction, and the mission would have to be aborted.

Natalie Moscowitz found the material of inestimable significance and was willing to share it with the neighbors.

Natalie and the other neighbors disagreed for a time over whether they had allowed for sufficient compression in shaping the balls in order to produce adequate implosion. The problems were solved  and a few days before Passover they were ready to test.

Blast Off

As the balls were dropped into the scalding broth, shock waves were sent though the kitchen.

The correct trajectory of these spheres into the boiling liquid was crucial. Would the balls sink to the bottom of the chicken soup or float delicately over the surface? Did they produce floaters or sinkers?

Almost immediately, the balls themselves swelled so much they filled up the entire pot! BOOMBEH!!

Debate

Was it only through underhanded means that Mrs. Moscowitz gained the information they needed to make the delectable dumplings? Was Julie Rosensweig merely a willing patsy?

Of course both Mom and Nana had underestimated the ability of Natalie Moscowitz to gear up so quickly for the production of  perfect matzo balls for Passover. They also underestimated her talent, resources, and resourcefulness.

There was substantial evidence that Mrs. Moscowitz had keen kneidel knowledge and a research program of her own, way before Nana’s visit.

But she lacked the real know how – using crude margarine where Nana insisted on fine schmaltz.

Nana refused to believe it happened, dismissing the intelligence that indicated it had.

She tasted it to authenticate it. Despite the fact the matzo balls were the regulation two inches in diameter, light as clouds, delicately disintegrating into a fluffy mass, they had missed the critical element.

Nana Sadie smiled dismissively.

Years later I would learn the secret, handed down for generations, until finally it was my time to be entrusted with it. It wasn’t about the seltzer, the stiffly beaten egg whites or even the schmaltz.

The one ingredient you must put in everything you cook, according to Great Grandma Rebecca, is love. If you do, everything you cook will be delicious.

Only then, she claimed, would it be a “meichel for the beichel!” ( a gift for the stomach).

A Happy Passover to all my friends who celebrate it!

Copyright (©) 20018 Sally Edelstein Envisioning the American Dream All Rights Reserved -Excerpt From Defrosting The Cold War:Fallout From My Nuclear Family