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True to the patriotic spirit of the times, the townspeople generously welcomed these men. They also hoped their own sons would receive reciprocal attention wherever they were. The men who attended church services in De Funiak Springs always had invitations to dinner. Every `Sunday found three or four servicemen at our table.
Young girls were invited and urged to attend the USO dances at the Air Force base. Twice a week army buses and converted school buses were sent from Eglin Field to take the heavily chaperoned girls to the dances.
A conversation with my friend, Evelyn, was typical of questions parents were asking about the propriety of their daughters attending these events.
“Hey, Marjy, are you going to the dance at Eglin on Friday night?"
“Sure, I'm going. Mamma's going to chaperone. She enjo s watching the dancing and talking with the homesick guys who don't dance.”
"Well, if your mother's going to be there, I think I can go too. Those Yankee boys sure are good dancers, especially the ones from New York andNew Jersey.”
“Sure, I'm going. Mamma's going to chaperone. She enjo s watching the dancing and talking with the homesick guys who don't dance.”
"Well, if your mother's going to be there, I think I can go too. Those Yankee boys sure are good dancers, especially the ones from New York andNew Jersey.”
"I know," I replied admiringly. "And, all the ones I've met at the dances are very well-mannered. Tell your family, the evening will be well supervised."
The servicemen were on good behavior at the dances at Eglin and late, when the local USO opened at the Chautauqua Auditorium in De Funiak Springs under the warm-hearted direction of Bess Tappan. Our town, with its local USO, was the proverbial "home away from home" for hundreds of men from all over the country. Names like Stanko, DeBoer, Marzella ceased to sound strange to our ears more accustomed to names with origins in the British Isles.
For special dress-up dances, the army provided trucks to bring the men to town. Big band sounds filled the building as men from the base spun records on the amplified systems furnished by the Army. "A String of Pearls’ and "Tuxedo Junction" kept jitterbugs happy with each couple trying to outdo another in fancy steps. The war seemed far away as the G. Is and the girls lost themselves in the carefree fun of dancing.
" Our stereotyped view of "Yankees" began to change as we came to know these men as individuals. The more assertive and direct nature of the boys, I think, was appealing to the girls as perhaps our manners and less sophisticated ways appealed to them.
Of course, not all the men appreciated Southern graces. Some held onto their preconceived notions of Northern superiority and Southern ignorance. The summer before my senior year at Florida State, I had a clerical job at Eglin and commuted five days a week, courtesy of the Air Force. Some girls who had office jobs lived on the base in barracks dorms with a house mother. A good friend of mine from high school days lived in this accommodation. Occasionally on weekends I would stay with her when she d urge that I date "this really good-looking friend” of one of her stream of officer admirers, /
At the time, J was interested in only one man, but he was far away on the West Coast, so I'd go along with Nancy Lee. I soon discovered that the expectations of some of the newly commissioned officers were different from mine, and their behavior was in marked contrast to that shown by the noncommissioned officers at USO dances. The main goal seemed to be to engage in a wrestling match with the four arms they sprouted once seated in the pack seat of a car. Why they thought they would find willing, amorous partners they scarcely knew was not only amazing but insulting
After several such encounters, I told Nancy Lee I'd had it with men who thought they were "God's gift to women." I was no longer interested 1n what amounted to physical contests. I also resented the mocking of our accents and denigration of Southerners.
"Marjorie," she persisted, "just go out Saturday night with a new guy, 4 friends of Ed's. They'd like to take us to the Officers’ Club for dinner and then a movie. I really think you'll have a nice time." It sounded innocuous enough, so I consented.
Nancy Lee and I met the men at the Officers' Club. As we walked in, per date was waiting with a second lieutenant I knew at a glance. That is, even from my limited experience, I recognized his attitude from the arrogant way he swaggered over to us. My perception was quickly confirmed when, upon being introduced, he snuggled up to me and in an intimate voice said, Why, hello, honey child, I'm sho 'nuff glad to meet you all.”
I gave Nancy Lee an "I told you so look" and she, with her extra large eyes, returned a look that begged for tolerance.
"So, you're from New Jersey?" I asked as pleasantly as I could
‘That's right, baby. Just been dying to meet you all. I hear you re the prettiest Southern belle east of the Mississippi."
Quite without forethought, I decided to play the stereotype he'd imagined. Laying on a heavy accent, dripping with syrup, I responded, “Why, thank you, suh. I'm terribly sorry my whole family could not be here to meet you . That's what you meant by ‘you all,’ wasn't it? When we say ‘you all’ we mean several people.”
The servicemen were on good behavior at the dances at Eglin and late, when the local USO opened at the Chautauqua Auditorium in De Funiak Springs under the warm-hearted direction of Bess Tappan. Our town, with its local USO, was the proverbial "home away from home" for hundreds of men from all over the country. Names like Stanko, DeBoer, Marzella ceased to sound strange to our ears more accustomed to names with origins in the British Isles.
For special dress-up dances, the army provided trucks to bring the men to town. Big band sounds filled the building as men from the base spun records on the amplified systems furnished by the Army. "A String of Pearls’ and "Tuxedo Junction" kept jitterbugs happy with each couple trying to outdo another in fancy steps. The war seemed far away as the G. Is and the girls lost themselves in the carefree fun of dancing.
" Our stereotyped view of "Yankees" began to change as we came to know these men as individuals. The more assertive and direct nature of the boys, I think, was appealing to the girls as perhaps our manners and less sophisticated ways appealed to them.
Of course, not all the men appreciated Southern graces. Some held onto their preconceived notions of Northern superiority and Southern ignorance. The summer before my senior year at Florida State, I had a clerical job at Eglin and commuted five days a week, courtesy of the Air Force. Some girls who had office jobs lived on the base in barracks dorms with a house mother. A good friend of mine from high school days lived in this accommodation. Occasionally on weekends I would stay with her when she d urge that I date "this really good-looking friend” of one of her stream of officer admirers, /
At the time, J was interested in only one man, but he was far away on the West Coast, so I'd go along with Nancy Lee. I soon discovered that the expectations of some of the newly commissioned officers were different from mine, and their behavior was in marked contrast to that shown by the noncommissioned officers at USO dances. The main goal seemed to be to engage in a wrestling match with the four arms they sprouted once seated in the pack seat of a car. Why they thought they would find willing, amorous partners they scarcely knew was not only amazing but insulting
After several such encounters, I told Nancy Lee I'd had it with men who thought they were "God's gift to women." I was no longer interested 1n what amounted to physical contests. I also resented the mocking of our accents and denigration of Southerners.
"Marjorie," she persisted, "just go out Saturday night with a new guy, 4 friends of Ed's. They'd like to take us to the Officers’ Club for dinner and then a movie. I really think you'll have a nice time." It sounded innocuous enough, so I consented.
Nancy Lee and I met the men at the Officers' Club. As we walked in, per date was waiting with a second lieutenant I knew at a glance. That is, even from my limited experience, I recognized his attitude from the arrogant way he swaggered over to us. My perception was quickly confirmed when, upon being introduced, he snuggled up to me and in an intimate voice said, Why, hello, honey child, I'm sho 'nuff glad to meet you all.”
I gave Nancy Lee an "I told you so look" and she, with her extra large eyes, returned a look that begged for tolerance.
"So, you're from New Jersey?" I asked as pleasantly as I could
‘That's right, baby. Just been dying to meet you all. I hear you re the prettiest Southern belle east of the Mississippi."
Quite without forethought, I decided to play the stereotype he'd imagined. Laying on a heavy accent, dripping with syrup, I responded, “Why, thank you, suh. I'm terribly sorry my whole family could not be here to meet you . That's what you meant by ‘you all,’ wasn't it? When we say ‘you all’ we mean several people.”
Failing to catch my intent, my date went on to exclaim according to his script (known then as a "snow job"), "Well, you sure do look nice tonight.”
All the while he was squeezing my arm and looking me over from head to toe.
Oh, you like these shoes? I do, too. I ain't had but one other pair in hole life and that was when my grandaddy died and we all went to the funeral...a long time ago."
Nancy Lee's date, a little more knowledgeable about our region, quickly
took over and said, “Ladies, let's go in to dinner."
As we walked ahead of the men, I overheard my date say, "Man, where'd you get this backwoods babe? She's cute looking, but is she one of these local fish-heads?"
That settled it. I could not stop. I hated the derogatory term some newcomers called people in the fishing village, which adjoined the base As we were seated at the table, I took the napkin and, holding it up, said admiringly, "My, this here's the pertiest piece of material I ever seen. Do you think I could take it home to my mamma?"
Nancy Lee gave me a pleading look, which I ignored.
“Let's order,” her date suggested.
My escort snapped his fingers while simultaneously calling "boy” to the black waiter. This was the final indignity. All the antagonism that had been building towards the more uncouth "Yankees" I'd thus far had the misfortune to date took over. I would really let him have it!
When the black civilian waiter came over, and my order was requested, I said, "Wel-I-l, I really cain't read this here piece of paper, so I guess I'll just have some good ol' collard greens and possum."
The startled waiter looked at me in disbelief. To him, I tried to give a clue to my actions. "This here gentleman thinks we are all fish-heads and I think he should know we have other good things to eat, like possum. You do have some, don't you?"
All the while he was squeezing my arm and looking me over from head to toe.
Oh, you like these shoes? I do, too. I ain't had but one other pair in hole life and that was when my grandaddy died and we all went to the funeral...a long time ago."
Nancy Lee's date, a little more knowledgeable about our region, quickly
took over and said, “Ladies, let's go in to dinner."
As we walked ahead of the men, I overheard my date say, "Man, where'd you get this backwoods babe? She's cute looking, but is she one of these local fish-heads?"
That settled it. I could not stop. I hated the derogatory term some newcomers called people in the fishing village, which adjoined the base As we were seated at the table, I took the napkin and, holding it up, said admiringly, "My, this here's the pertiest piece of material I ever seen. Do you think I could take it home to my mamma?"
Nancy Lee gave me a pleading look, which I ignored.
“Let's order,” her date suggested.
My escort snapped his fingers while simultaneously calling "boy” to the black waiter. This was the final indignity. All the antagonism that had been building towards the more uncouth "Yankees" I'd thus far had the misfortune to date took over. I would really let him have it!
When the black civilian waiter came over, and my order was requested, I said, "Wel-I-l, I really cain't read this here piece of paper, so I guess I'll just have some good ol' collard greens and possum."
The startled waiter looked at me in disbelief. To him, I tried to give a clue to my actions. "This here gentleman thinks we are all fish-heads and I think he should know we have other good things to eat, like possum. You do have some, don't you?"
“No, ma'am, I don't believe we do,” he replied, not looking up and trying not to laugh.
"Then how about some nice chitlins'?" I asked.
“What in God's name are chitlins'?" my date inquired.
"Don't ask,“ Ed mumbled.
The waiter, sensing trouble, said, “Excuse me, I'll see what else we have tonight.”
Turning to the insensitive officer, I dropped the act and began a furious sermon. “Listen, soldier, down here we do not snap fingers to summon people. We politely ask for their assistance. Furthermore, ”
Before I could say more, Nancy Lee interrupted with a sharp, “Marjorie, come with me to the ladies room.”
Once there, she said, "What in the world are you doing? I ve never neard you talk like that. You are ruining a perfectly good evening. '
“Nancy Lee, this guy is a jerk! Perhaps I'd better leave."
"I think that's a good idea," she replied. "But what will I tell them?”
‘Tell that pompous ignoramus I had to leave because if I'm not home by eight-thirty, my pappy will come after him with a shotgun. He'll hkely believe it!"
This incident, which I later recalled with embarrassment, did not have a lasting effect on my attitude about men from the North. As time went on, my own biases were altered as the number of contacts with men from above the Mason/Dixon line increased.
Many of the girls with whom I'd grown up were marrying Yankees and after the war moved North or West.
My beautiful blond cousin, Kay, married a handsome Air Force captain of Italian-Yugoslav descent from Brooklyn, New York. Everyone who met Bob loved this delightful man. Of course, it helped the townspeop _initial acceptance of him to know he had graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Duke University in North Carolina.
All this wartime cultural mixing undoubtedly broadened my view of Yankees, for I too married a New Yorker with the gentle grace of a Southern gentleman but the assertive confidence of a well-educated man from the urban Northeast.
At one point in all the dating and marrying of Yankees, Aunt Bern said to me, "Honey, I just don't know what all this mixing will bring. Your cousin’s married a man with a foreign name, you seem headed towards marriage to an Irish Catholic from Yonkers and your sister's dating a Jewish boy from Chicago. Now, don't misunderstand. You know we think Bob and your Tom are fine men. We love them both. We don't really know Chris’ young man. But, with the religious and cultural differences, do you think it will all work out?"
Before I could say more, Nancy Lee interrupted with a sharp, “Marjorie, come with me to the ladies room.”
Once there, she said, "What in the world are you doing? I ve never neard you talk like that. You are ruining a perfectly good evening. '
“Nancy Lee, this guy is a jerk! Perhaps I'd better leave."
"I think that's a good idea," she replied. "But what will I tell them?”
‘Tell that pompous ignoramus I had to leave because if I'm not home by eight-thirty, my pappy will come after him with a shotgun. He'll hkely believe it!"
This incident, which I later recalled with embarrassment, did not have a lasting effect on my attitude about men from the North. As time went on, my own biases were altered as the number of contacts with men from above the Mason/Dixon line increased.
Many of the girls with whom I'd grown up were marrying Yankees and after the war moved North or West.
My beautiful blond cousin, Kay, married a handsome Air Force captain of Italian-Yugoslav descent from Brooklyn, New York. Everyone who met Bob loved this delightful man. Of course, it helped the townspeop _initial acceptance of him to know he had graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Duke University in North Carolina.
All this wartime cultural mixing undoubtedly broadened my view of Yankees, for I too married a New Yorker with the gentle grace of a Southern gentleman but the assertive confidence of a well-educated man from the urban Northeast.
At one point in all the dating and marrying of Yankees, Aunt Bern said to me, "Honey, I just don't know what all this mixing will bring. Your cousin’s married a man with a foreign name, you seem headed towards marriage to an Irish Catholic from Yonkers and your sister's dating a Jewish boy from Chicago. Now, don't misunderstand. You know we think Bob and your Tom are fine men. We love them both. We don't really know Chris’ young man. But, with the religious and cultural differences, do you think it will all work out?"
This was the first time a family member had directly questioned what was happening. I was caught by surprise, but it did cause me—later to think beyond the passion of my current involvement.
“I don't know, Aunt Bern. Kay and Bob seem to really love one another. I know Tom and I do. We realize we've got some religious hurdles ahead, and living in the North will test both Kay and me. About Chris, she's
having too good a time dating and dancing right now. I don't think she's found the one man."
Aunt Bern listened thoughtfully and said, "Well, this war has certainly caused a fruit basket turn-over. I hope it will all end well.”
I'm glad Aunt Bern lived to see her concerns, at least for her kin, unfounded. However, she knew and we learned that differences can rupture a relationship, or enrich it,
Kay and Bob have been models for marriage and have lived "up North” for nearly fifty years. My husband and I, after months of deliberation over religion, found that in addition to our Strong attraction to one anc h we had more in common than in conflict. In forty-four years of marriage, our lives have become blended, but never bland.
My sister continued to date a wide variety of men for several years after the war. She eventually married a Westerner, who, with no previous knowledge of our South, became a convert—with the possible exception of liking okra.
? © The second coming of the Yankees to the South forged new alliances and healed the brutal scars left by the first during the War Between the States. Still, people said, “It's not like it was before."
One thing, however, has not changed. Southern roots are deep and wherever Southerners (black or white) find themselves living today, they are drawn to return to their kinfolks in the South. There they are greeted with a
warm hospitality they find nowhere else. When they leave, they go with the familiar ritual request of good-byes, "Y'all come see us again real soon.”
“I don't know, Aunt Bern. Kay and Bob seem to really love one another. I know Tom and I do. We realize we've got some religious hurdles ahead, and living in the North will test both Kay and me. About Chris, she's
having too good a time dating and dancing right now. I don't think she's found the one man."
Aunt Bern listened thoughtfully and said, "Well, this war has certainly caused a fruit basket turn-over. I hope it will all end well.”
I'm glad Aunt Bern lived to see her concerns, at least for her kin, unfounded. However, she knew and we learned that differences can rupture a relationship, or enrich it,
Kay and Bob have been models for marriage and have lived "up North” for nearly fifty years. My husband and I, after months of deliberation over religion, found that in addition to our Strong attraction to one anc h we had more in common than in conflict. In forty-four years of marriage, our lives have become blended, but never bland.
My sister continued to date a wide variety of men for several years after the war. She eventually married a Westerner, who, with no previous knowledge of our South, became a convert—with the possible exception of liking okra.
? © The second coming of the Yankees to the South forged new alliances and healed the brutal scars left by the first during the War Between the States. Still, people said, “It's not like it was before."
One thing, however, has not changed. Southern roots are deep and wherever Southerners (black or white) find themselves living today, they are drawn to return to their kinfolks in the South. There they are greeted with a
warm hospitality they find nowhere else. When they leave, they go with the familiar ritual request of good-byes, "Y'all come see us again real soon.”
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