we are on God’s side.”
That night the champion demolished Buddy Baer in the first round. The next morning Louis was sworn into the Army as a private. 1
A Grieving Father Joins Navy
O N JANUARY 4, 1942, fifty-one-year-old Walter Bromley called at a Seattle recruiting station and tried to enlist in the Navy. He was rejected. Six years too old.
Bromley persisted, and a few hours later the Navy recruiter was suddenly struck with blurry vision and he wrote on the application that Bromley was forty-five. Minutes later he was sworn into the service, possibly the oldest seaman in the Navy.
Bromley had explained that his two sons had been killed at Pearl Harbor. 2
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Self-Appointed Do-Gooders
W ITH THE BULK OF America’s young men in uniform or about to enter the armed forces, do-gooders in the civilian sector took it upon themselves to stand guard over the morals of the GIs. The Minnesota Anti-Saloon League passed a resolution—unanimously of course—that called for the War Department to establish so-called “dry zones” around Army camps.
Church groups fired off letters to members of Congress about the evils of Demon Rum and demanded that prostitutes not be permitted any closer to military installations than five miles.
Other segments of American society, however, were not eager to “eliminate” prostitution around military bases—if such a goal actually could be achieved. Many leaders in the armed forces felt that young men required sexual activity, that the urge was uncontrollable. Large numbers of local government officials looked on prostitution as an industry that brought heavy revenue to the city halls.
In early 1943, headlines in the sensationalist press screamed that venereal disease had reached epidemic proportions around military bases and demanded that Washington take action to wipe out this plague.
No doubt responding to pressure from Congress, whose members were being bombarded with letters from worried mothers, Surgeon General Thomas Parren published a report that scalded armed forces leaders for not doing enough to halt the spread of venereal disease, which he called the “number one saboteur of our defense.”
Parren’s document gave detailed and lurid descriptions of “our country’s newly organized panzer prostitutes.”
Newspapers, even so-called staid ones like the New York Times, eagerly published long excerpts from the racy Parren report.
President Roosevelt, always the consummate politician, instructed the Army and Navy to take action to curb the nation’s “number one saboteur.” Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox responded by holding a private session with the House Committee on Naval Affairs, on February 23, 1943.
Knox, a former publisher of the Chicago Daily News, brought with him an article from the current issue of American Mercury, a small-circulation magazine, entitled: “Norfolk—Our Worst War Town.” The piece detailed how easy it was to obtain illicit liquor and sex in and around Norfolk, site of the nation’s largest naval base. In that Virginia city of some 200,000 population, the Navy had its largest supply depot and the headquarters of the Atlantic Fleet.
Immediately after the session with Knox, Naval Affairs Committee Chairman Carl Vinson appointed a seven-person panel, headed by Ed Izac, to rush to Norfolk and hold hearings. The only woman in the group was Margaret Chase Smith, whom the media promptly dubbed the Vice Admiral. Forty-five years of age, she had become a Republican member of the House in 1940.
A Hollywood Victory Committee 33
Smith sat at the end of a long table at the hearing in Norfolk, decidedly uncomfortable about being surrounded by only men and the topic—sex and whores. In that era, such gross subjects were not discussed in front of refined ladies.
Smith was deeply disturbed by the lurid disclosures. Norfolk officials testified that professional prostitutes were no longer the main source of venereal disease proliferation. Taking the