by Joe Wessel
Being the oldest of ten, with five brothers and four sisters, Dad had the platform to become a leader, a counselor, a big brother, and a friend to his siblings. The three-bedroom house in which they lived had one bathroom and no air conditioning. A survival-of-the-fittest climate existed, teaching the kids that the early riser got the better shoes—and the most food. Not having money to go to the movies or other forms of entertainment, Dad became a tinkerer, developing a natural curiosity about how things worked and how to fix them. My grandmother knew how to cook circles around most, and she could play the piano. No doubt, those skills rubbed off on Dad, as did her love of music. Eventually, that love would weave itself into every part of his life, and mine.
Dad attended St. Patrick’s School in Miami Beach. St. Patrick’s, and the church to which it was attached, were built in the aftermath of the “Great Miami Hurricane.” My grandfather, Louis, helped build the church along with the school gymnasium. Attending the Catholic school hardly filled Dad’s vision of heaven. Instead, the beach represented his idea of the Promise Land. Any time spent in the sand and salt water was time well spent—particularly when skipping school. Said excursions would usually involve fishing or diving in the Atlantic Ocean. At times, he would combine the two activities to spearfish for grouper and snapper off Miami Beach. Despite being anything but wealthy, Dad also was introduced to golf in his early years, receiving instruction from Denny Rouse, one of the first-known golf professionals in Normandy Isle.
During Dad’s freshman and sophomore years in high school, he worked part-time at a gas station. Being around cars and engines pleased him.
Thanks to World War II, he never graduated from St. Patrick’s.
The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Like many Americans, Dad heard about the attack via the radio. Subsequent reports of the activities that followed, along with the wave of patriotism in the country, captured his attention.
My grandfather’s work often put him in different areas where bridges and other projects were being constructed. That left doling out much of the discipline to my grandmother and the St. Patrick’s nuns and priests.
Dad had worn down the nuns, who had tired of tracking him down and trying to haul him back to school. Finally, my grandmother issued the ultimatum: “Look, you’re either going to stay in school, or you’re going to the war.”
Music to Dad’s ears.
On February 27, 1942, Dad chose the war. Despite being just fifteen, he had already been thinking about joining the war effort. A friend of his, Leo Collins, served on a Navy battleship. Leo filled Dad’s ears with tales of the foreign countries he’d visited. Dad’s mind drifted and dreamed, bringing thoughts of the ocean, exotic islands, and a lot of girls. And why not? Remember, he lived in a small house with his nine siblings, and meanwhile, his relationships with the Catholic nuns grew more contentious daily. It’s no wonder that the Navy looked like an attractive destination, even if combat might be part of the assignment.
Believing that the United States’ mainland could be attacked next, countless young and patriotic American men enlisted. I have to agree with Tom Brokaw, who called that generation the “Greatest Generation.”
Dad figured he could join even if underaged. He lied when he went with a friend to enlist, telling them he was seventeen. Even with the addition of two years to his alleged age, the Navy informed him he needed to have a signed release from his parents to go anchors aweigh. My grandparents signed off.
Being a father, I can’t imagine signing off to allow one of my sons to join the military, particularly at the age of fifteen.
The Navy accepted Dad in February of 1942, and he reported for duty at the end of the month, on February 27, 1942.
CHAPTER 3
Off to War
TODAY, DAD’S CLASSIFICATION WOULD BE known as a VUMS, or Veteran Underage Military Service.
Basic training took place at the Naval Operating Base in Norfolk, Virginia. Because so many men entered the Navy at the same time, there wasn’t room for all of them at the facility. Accordingly, training got delayed, as did assignments. Dad had to spend months at Norfolk before the Navy could find a place for him. Many others shared the same experience.
Dad’s resistance to discipline added to the difficulty of basic training. When speaking about himself as a young man, he allowed, “I was kind of an independent cuss. But I got through it very well.”
Trainees at the facility were assigned to different schools such as aviation school, mechanic school, and radio operator school, to name a few. Those who weren’t assigned to one of the schools were immediately assigned to ship duty. Dad fell into the latter category, receiving the classification of apprentice seaman.
Fresh out of boot camp in July of 1942, Dad got assigned aboard a troop carrier, USS Thomas Stone, named after a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Two months later, Dad was transferred to USS Simpson, a four-stack destroyer from World War I named for Rear Admiral Edward Simpson.
Escort duty in the Atlantic turned out to be the Simpson’s mission. The ship would travel up and down the East Coast of the United States, offering submarine patrol and protection for the freighters and troop carriers from Guantanamo Bay to Boston and New York.
While on the Simpson, Dad got the news in November of 1942 that the Thomas Stone had been torpedoed while on the way to the invasion of Casablanca in North Africa. Fortunately, the troops aboard survived.
Dad was transferred again on December 1, 1942, going from the Simpson to New York. Pier 92 operated as a receiving station during the war when the Queen Mary, the Normandie, and many other big cruise ships docked there and got converted into barracks. Thousands of double-decker beds were installed and became home to over 10,000 sailors.
Getting assigned to New York turned into one of the best experiences of Dad’s life.
Menial duties kept him and his fellow sailors busy most mornings, while free time came during most afternoons, enabling them to venture into New York City to entertain themselves. Dad dedicated much of his time to cultivating his interest in music.
Ethel Merman and Irving Berlin starred in the first Broadway show he saw. Sammy Kaye, Glenn Miller, and many of the big bands of that era played in the city. Dad even saw Frank Sinatra perform at the Paramount Theatre. By the time his two months of duty in New York City had run its course, his passion for music had been effectively stoked. For the first time ever, an idea about what he wanted to do in life percolated inside his mind.
Dad was transferred to Little Creek, Virginia, in February of 1943 and got assigned to a newly designed type of a ship, known as an LCI—Landing Craft Infantry. These were lightly armed amphibious assault vessels designed to land troops when they made beachhead assaults. The crew of twenty-three men—nineteen enlisted men and four officers—shipped out on February 6, 1943, in the 135-foot ship, spending twenty-six days navigating the small ship from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It was not exactly easy duty, since the LCI had not been designed to navigate heavy seas. At such times, the vessel could feel like a cork floating in the water. The crew had to get along in the tight quarters, coping with the intense heat while living on a diet consisting primarily of Spam dishes. On the bright side, they had a cook who knew how to make the best cornbread Dad had ever tasted.
Dad advanced from apprentice seaman, to seaman second class, and then to a seaman first class. While serving on the LCI, he renewed his interest in mechanics and went into the “Black Gang” as a motor machinist, learning a lot about the engines that supplied the power that propelled the ship through the water.
Dad helped take care of the engines and saw that they were serviced properly, and he had a battle station, as did everyone on the crew. When general quarters sounded, whether they were in battle or anticipating going into battle, they had to be at their battle stations. For Dad, that meant being the gunner on a 20-millimeter cannon.
Daily duties also included watch duty, a duty everybody on the ship shared, that us
ually constituted four hours on, four hours off, four hours on, then eight hours off.
On that tiny vessel, they went to Bora Bora, Fiji, Samoa, Noumea, and Sydney before they were to head for Guadalcanal in April of 1943.
The Battle of Guadalcanal began on August 7, 1942, and continued until February 9, 1943. Amphibious warfare had played a large role throughout the battle. Fortunately, the Marines had the island well under control by the time Dad’s LCI had been scheduled to arrive, so their ship, and the flotilla in which they traveled, got reassigned to New Guinea, where things were going badly.
At any given time, they traveled as part of a six- to twelve-ship flotilla. They took part in a mission at Buna, which the Army had captured months earlier. Dad’s LCI would transport a company of men—normally close to two hundred infantry personnel, from spot A to spot B, where the battle took place. As the boat approached its intended landfall, they would drop a large spiked anchor off the stern several hundred yards away from the beach. They would beach the boat as close to land as possible. The troops would unload on the beach using the ship’s bow ramps. After the disembarkation of the troops, they would use the machine pulley that was connected to the anchor to then pull the ship off the beach to return it to the sea.
Over the course of the next year and a half, they made many landings up and down the New Guinea coast before jumping to New Britain, where they transported Marines into battle. They also transported Australian soldiers. On one occasion that included an Australian division that had just departed South Africa, they had engaged the “Desert Fox,” German General Erwin Rommel, and his famed tank corps.
Throughout, they conducted a series of leapfrogging exercises. General Douglas MacArthur developed a strategy that would cut off the enemy’s supply line by leapfrogging around the enemy rather than fighting through him.
Dad was rotated back to the United States in December of 1944, taking a ship to San Francisco to begin a thirty-day leave.
During that time, he returned to Miami, where he enjoyed getting reacquainted with civilian life. Mostly, he just hung out, having fun with women, going to the dance halls and the USO shows. The Air Force operated a huge training base for officer training schools in Miami Beach. Sailors were welcomed at their activities, so they had a ball. They received hero treatment everywhere they went. Dad always maintained they weren’t heroes, noting, “Those were the guys who didn’t come home.”
After the thirty days passed, Dad had to report to Cape Bradford, Virginia, near Norfolk, to be reassigned. Once again, he got assigned to an amphibious vessel. You could say the assignment left Dad somewhat south of being a happy camper. This time, he found himself aboard an LST, which carried twice the amount of an LCI. A sailor couldn’t do anything about his assignment, so, dutifully, he reported to his new ship in January of 1945.
While the LCI only carried infantry and could carry up to a company, or two hundred men, an LST had a huge open space, with the operation part of the ship on the stern. Tanks, boats, and other amphibious crafts could be transported on an LST, which ran 340 feet long. They only had twenty-four crew members on the LCI. Seventy-four crew members manned the LST, bringing a different environment and making Dad miserable.
Just like the other time Dad shipped out of Virginia, they followed a path that cut through the Panama Canal to the Pacific. A stop at Pearl Harbor afforded them a firsthand look at the devastation from the December 7, 1941, attack. Being a young man, Dad spent most of that two-day stop at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, because that’s where most of the servicemen who went to Hawaii wanted to go.
After the stop in Hawaii, they set sail for the Philippines, arriving shortly after the invasion of the island. They were grateful the island had been secured before their arrival. The Philippines invasion had brought a lot of losses.
They transported men and equipment from city to city in the Philippines before winding up in Manila. Then they transported tanks and armored vehicles to Okinawa. That summer, while leaving Okinawa, they were subjected to the worst series of typhoons that ever affected the US Navy.
Japan is located in the typhoon belt. Typhoons were frequent occurrences that summer and continued to haunt the Navy through November. To grasp how powerful those typhoons could be, USS Hornet, an Essex-class carrier that had survived numerous battles at sea, saw the front edge of its flight deck collapse by the force of 138 mph winds. That forced the Hornet and its 2,500-man crew to head to California for repairs. Dad’s ship survived by making port in Ie Shima, the little island north of Okinawa where Japanese machine gunfire had killed famed war correspondent Ernie Pyle.
Pyle had been killed on April 18, 1945, after coming ashore with the Army’s 305th Infantry Regiment of the 77th “Liberty Patch” Division. Dad, like others in the military, thought highly of Pyle, who wasn’t shy about going into combat. The monument on Ie Shima that honored Pyle moved Dad accordingly.
While they were on the island, Dad and his entire ship received the news on August 6 and 9 that atom bombs had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. News of a Japanese surrender had quickly followed.
The Navy didn’t know where to send Dad’s ship after the surrender. First, they were directed to Korea, where they unloaded the vehicles aboard. They then sailed to Tientsin, China, which is located on the coast across the Sea of Japan from Sasebo, Japan. Several trips followed where they transported Japanese prisoners of war from China back to their homeland.
In November, Dad was put on a ship headed to San Francisco. From there, he took a five-day train trip to Jacksonville, Florida. After receiving an honorable discharge at Jacksonville Naval Air Station on December 24, 1945, Dad returned to Miami Beach. What a Christmas present!
Dad said of his time in the Navy that it had its ups and downs and though he wouldn’t take a million dollars to do it all again, he was happy that he’d served. He stressed that he learned a lot from the experience, which allowed him to explore other parts of the world and taught him how to deal with trying circumstances. Above all, he felt grateful, and fortunate, to have finished his service without incurring an injury, mental or physical.
CHAPTER 4
Home, and Broadway
DAD FOUND HIMSELF IN A situation similar to what hundreds of thousands of men experienced when returning to civilian life after the war. The Navy had been all he’d known from the time he was fifteen until he was nineteen, and he had no idea what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, or even in his immediate future.
He’d already recognized the fact that not having graduated from high school would be a detriment, and he began to address that deficiency before leaving the Navy. Correspondence courses were offered by the Armed Forces Network while he served in the Pacific, and he took advantage of that opportunity. Once he returned to Miami, he went to a local high school that offered a course in how to pass the GED test. After getting his high school diploma out of the way, Dad’s thoughts turned to music. My grandmother had music in her blood. She could play the piano by ear. Not until Dad returned home from World War II did he discover that he, too, had a passion for music. That love of music prompted him to enroll at the University of Miami via the G.I. Bill, and he graduated with a liberal arts degree with a major in music.
Dad had a tenor voice. The tenor is not the extreme high range of a male voice, but it is a high range. A “bass” voice registers as the deep voice, with “baritone” coming in the middle of the two. Examples of modern-day tenors are Luciano Pavarotti and Placido Domingo. Maybe that’s why Dad loved Pavarotti.
Shooting for the moon, Dad saw a musical career on Broadway as the next logical adventure of his life. Ignoring the staggering odds against success on the grandest of stages, he again left Miami Beach and headed to New York City, where he had felt the pulse of the big city and had so enjoyed the music and Broadway shows.
During his three years in the Big Apple, he performed in Broadway musicals, road shows, and summer stock. Brigadoon, Kiss Me Kate, Carousel, and Oklaho
ma, were just some of the numerous shows in which he participated.
Performing on Broadway had parallels to being an athlete. Broadway actors and actresses did nine shows a week, with two matinees. You had to be in great shape to physically adhere to such a schedule. And when the lights came on, you had to set aside any nerves and perform. I think it’s a fair comparison.
Young, single, and full of life, Dad loved his time on Broadway, even if he had to supplement his income by working as a chef.
In the end, Dad had talent, but he recognized that the odds were stacked against him to succeed in the tough entertainment business. Even those more talented than he failed. Chasing hard the Broadway dream finally drove home the realization to him that he hadn’t made a lucrative career choice. He always said of his days on Broadway, “I did a lot more cooking than I did singing!” Looking to make a change and earn more money, he moved back to Miami Beach, where he could enjoy the ocean, the beach, and his family.
Dad’s return to Miami Beach also signaled the beginning of his career as a piano bar singer. He became the Frank Sinatra of Miami Beach, performing in the hotel lounges and The Surfside Bandshell. Piano bars were popular in the 1950s and 1960s during the Rat Pack’s heyday, and the influences of Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis were undeniable. All of the hotels at the beach at that time had lounges. Performers like Dad were usually accompanied by piano players. A blind man, Hal Di Ciccio, became Dad’s favorite pianist, and they formed a duo.
Singing in lounges, Dad stayed true to his tenor voice, though he imitated a lot of the popular singers of the day. And, obviously, many of his selections were influenced by Broadway.
Dad’s return to Miami Beach also set the stage for him to meet my mother.
Two of Dad’s sisters, Margaret and Rita, attended St. Patrick’s also, and they played sports. In their high school days, they played against this girl from the other side of the tracks at St. Mary’s. Her name: Marjorie Parker.
