The Custom Tower

When I was a child in the early 1940’s I lived on West Fifth St. a far distance from Boston Harbor. In those days we had only one tall building in Boston and that was the Custom House. From my bedroom on the third floor I had a clear view of the top of the tower. At night I would look out of my window and see the sweeping light it emitted presumably to prevent aircraft from hitting it as they approached the Municipal Airport in East Boston. I got so used to seeing the light before going to sleep that I kind of needed it to help me nod off. Funny that after all these years I can still picture that scene.

Years later when I worked at the JFK building in Boston I had heard that you could get to the top of the tower. You took an elevator to nearly the top then squeezed yourself in a much smaller elevator (that could fit no more than two people) for the remainder of the trip. The view from the top was spectacular. You could see Logan and all kinds of aircraft taking off and landing. You had all of Boston Harbor at your disposal. I was late getting back to work that day because I just couldn’t leave the tower. I am glad I made the effort because soon thereafter they declared the smaller elevator too dangerous. For all I know I may have been the last person to use it.

The Custom Tower has a special place in my memory bank. Every time I pass it I think back to a much simpler time of my youth.

PEARL HARBOR

Seventy three years ago on Dec7, 1941 the Japanese attacked the military naval and airfield bases in Pearl Harbor in what was then an American Territory. I was 6 at the time and didn’t quite realize the significance of the event. What I did notice was the anguish looks of my father and mother and my uncle and aunt when we heard of it on the radio newscast. It was obvious something horrible had occurred. Where was Pearl Harbor? Why did they attack us? These were questions that first ran in my young mind. Then we learned that Germany declared war on us as well.

On West Fifth St. where I lived the reaction among the teenagers on the street was quite different. They all were excited by the news…all anxious to join in the fight. “We’ll beat those Japs…They’ll be sorry they attacked us” was the refrain heard along the street.

I was confused. Should I be anxious like my elders or excited like my older friends. Many of course joined up as soon as they were eligible. Some earlier if they got permission from their parents. Soon after, in the windows were hung banners with blue stars indicating the number of children engaged in the conflict. I did my part by learning the silhouette of all Japanese and German planes. It would be my duty to report to the authorities if I spotted any flying overhead.

I purchased 25 cent “War Stamps” which were converted to “War Bonds” when my book was full. I joined with others and we collected pots and pans..all for the war effort. We cheered at the Saturday movie news at the Strand and Broadway Theaters when the announcer showed the progress being made against the Japs and Germans. Our games involved shooting down enemy planes and enemy soldiers. As youngsters we were doing our best to support our military.

The excitement waned quickly when many of the blue stars were changed to gold. The war took its toll on our street. The faces of my friends are no longer visible in my memory. I know they died in a just cause but I really wonder if wars are the solution .Today our closest ally in Europe is Germany and we certainly have a close relationship with Japan. I don’t have the answer …maybe someone out there does.