They grew up during the Depression and shouldered weighty responsibilities during World War II –on the battlefield and in their communities. Linfield College alumni from the 1940s saw their lives turned upside down in many ways, as the war raged and even in the years immediately after. Their stories vary. Mitsue (Endow) Salador ’45 was ordered to an internment camp. Bruce Stewart ’49 enrolled at a fast-changing Linfield after a stint in the U.S. Navy. Margaret (Parent) Lutz ’43 was inspired to join the naval reserves after seeing gold stars representing fallen classmates added to a flag in Melrose Hall. Linfield underwent dramatic change as well, with a drop in enrollment as students left for war and a surge in growth after GIs returned. Read their stories, offered here from interview transcripts, or hear these and other interviews in their own words.
Editor’s note: Linfield is developing an oral history archive of the varied experiences of Linfield alumni both at home and abroad during World War II. “The Linfield College Public History Project: World War II as Experience and Memory” was initiated by History Professors Rachel Schley and Lissa Wadewitz, as well as Archives Director Rich Schmidt. Student researchers Ruby Guyot ’19 and Elisia Harder ’20 are conducting interviews. If you or someone you know are willing to share a story, or if you have items from the era to donate to the archives, contact Schmidt at rschmidt@linfield.edu or 503-883-2734.
Forced to leave
Mitsue (Endow) Salador ’45 was studying at Linfield to be a teacher in 1942 when she received a letter requiring her to report to the Portland Assembly Center. Her internment lasted three months, before she was released on the condition that she transfer and relocate 1,800 miles east to attend William Jewell College in Missouri. She was able to attend on the recommendation of William Smith, professor of sociology at Linfield. Ultimately, she earned master’s degrees in nursing (Western Reserve University) and teaching (New York University) and retired as a teacher in 1984. The Civil Liberties Act of 1988 provided a letter of apology from the president and monetary compensation to each Japanese-American survivor of the internment.
Dec. 7, 1941 was a Sunday and my best friend from high school came to visit that day and we both heard the news (of the Pearl Harbor attack) together. We picked up the newspaper and found that Japan was an enemy of the United States. I was horrified. It was a devastating blow. There was no change in the way my classmates related to me. I didn’t feel an ounce of discrimination. By May, the order came directly to each family that they had to move. Fortunately, a friend managed (my parents’ Hood River property) while my parents were to be gone. Soldiers came to the house to take them to the train station.
After they were on the trains, the shades were drawn so people would not know where they were going. They were on this train for a long time. When the train stopped and they were allowed to get out, they found they were in Pineville, California. Travel restrictions were imposed.
My Chinese friend was able to go by train or bus to her family but she had to wear a tag saying, ‘I am Chinese.’ I wasn’t able to join my parents. I was taken to the Portland Assembly Center with another Linfield freshman, and we were put into the women’s boarding room. It was a room that was formed with plywood walls in a livestock exposition building. We were in this big area and they had partitioned the area so there would be rooms for families and single women. There was no ceiling, just a high roof above us. We had to stand in line all day long. Laundry was done in mass facilities. All of the food was in mass. At that time, we just lived the best we could.
While I was in Portland I found out a person could be released from this confinement if they found a place outside the western defense command where someone would receive us and vouch for our safety. Dr. William Smith, my sociology professor, had taught at William Jewell College and could arrange for me to go there. He and I communicated by letter. I was given leave by the government that I could go on to William Jewel. I only spent the summer in a camp. I was able to get to Missouri in September when they admitted students.
There was such hysteria about the war. People genuinely feared that the battlefield would be on the Pacific coast. Thinking about it now, I don’t know how (internment) could’ve been prevented. But it was pretty devastating. I would be a different person if it weren’t for the war.
I feel very thankful having been at Linfield, because that made it possible for me to continue my life. When I think of Linfield, immediately I think of Dr. Smith. He was the personification of the kind of people I met at Linfield. Everyone was so friendly and nice. I felt comfortable being there.
A veteran enrolls
Bruce Stewart ’49 was 17 as World War II neared its end. He graduated from high school in June 1945 and joined the Navy, following in the footsteps of his father and older brother. He served one year in the Navy Air Corps, before his honorable discharge in August 1946. Weeks later, he enrolled at Linfield under the GI Bill, eventually earning a degree in education and mathematics. He taught and was an administrator in the Salem Public School District for 36 years, and spent one year as president of the Oregon Education Association.
We were at war. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, I was an air raid warden in Tacoma, Washington, and my job with a fellow Boy Scout would be to walk a six-block area at night to make sure there was no light showing. That made a big impact on my life. Everyone participated. We all rallied around this war.
When I was in high school, most of us were thinking of joining the service. We wanted to serve our country. The big question was: Shall I enlist before graduating or graduate and then go in the service? But there wasn’t much of a question. We were going in the service.
There were 100 guys in our company of sailors. Generally, we marched to class. I never saw salt water from the time I enlisted until I was discharged. When I joined the Navy Air Corps, it was necessary to get two years of college before learning to fly. So I was sent to The Montana State School of Mines in Butte, Montana, for one term and then to Colorado College in Colorado Springs for two terms. By that time the war was over and I was told they didn’t need as many pilots and if I wanted out of the program I could opt out.
(After the war) we had a lot of ex-GIs who came to Linfield. The enrollment increased tremendously and rapidly. There weren’t enough rooms in the dormitories for the male students, so they set up cots in Riley Gymnasium.
Linfield was well known as a Baptist school at that time. I was thinking of becoming a medical missionary but I changed my mind and majored in math and education. I studied “campustry.” I played around a lot. I didn’t spend a lot of time studying, like I should have. I was Associated Students of Linfield College president and joined a fraternity.
The GI Bill was my savior. I drove a school bus for Joe Dancer for two years. I also worked in the kitchen washing pots and pans in the evening, made a few bucks.
We had a lot of activities throughout the year. As an example, May Day. There was a May pole and they danced around it. We had a May Day parade down Third Street in McMinnville, fraternities and sororities had floats. There was a dance, a dinner. It was a big thing. Homecoming was a big activity. We had a homecoming bonfire in an open field, students piled up wood from many places. It’s amazing how much wood appeared to build up that bonfire.
Linfield was a great experience. I matured when I came here. I wasn’t ready for college when I left high school, and I spent quite a bit of time playing around and not taking studies really seriously. But in the
process, I learned about growing up.
Inspired to serve
Margaret (Parent) Lutz ’43 watched Linfield classmates go off to war, and gold stars representing fallen classmates go up on a flag in Melrose Hall. The experience inspired her to serve in the women’s branch of the U.S. Naval Reserve, known as the WAVES, where she was a control tower operator. She published two books about women in World War II – Never Salute With a Broken Garter and It’s Hard To Salute Standing In A Wall Locker.
We had 90-day wonders, a pilot training program. The guys would leave our campus – if they were 18 they were qualified to be a pilot. They would be gone 90 days and come back in uniform with their wings. Campus was down as far as men go. They left because they all felt compelled to help.
(A United States flag) hung over the proscenium arch in Melrose Hall where we all went for chapel. I sat there and watched those gold stars go up on that flag, and the class of ’42 was very decimated. It seemed like every other week there would be another gold star up there. Some of them were guys that sat beside me in chapel the year before. I knew every one of them. Sometimes I would choke up and not even hear what was going on in chapel because somebody’s name was up there. This was life and death. I moved through that time with some sort of feeling that I needed to do something.
(Pearl Harbor) didn’t frighten us, and it didn’t impress us because we just didn’t have immediate grasp of what was going on. Our news came to us over the radio and newspapers. We started selling bonds and selling stamps, and we started having contests. There was a bond queen once a month — whoever could sell the most bonds.
College at that time was very academic. There was no dancing on the campus, no card playing and of course, no smoking. We would hold dances downtown in the Chamber of Commerce Building in McMinnville. Homer Groening ’41, had a pile of 78 rpm records that were very danceable, and a big phonograph player and they had a sound system so they could announce the music. That was our social life.
I learned what to respect and how to respect. And that was one of my basic lessons I got from Linfield. And that is a very calming thing to learn – to sit and meditate. We were very careful with the dormitories. We were always respectful about our surroundings, and the faculty and the people that were administering to us.
When I think about Linfield, I think about the calmness and the spirit; the sweetness. Everything was beautiful before the war. It got tarnished with everything the war did to Linfield. I have nothing but good memories and appreciation for my education.
That’s the whole thing — this is what a liberal arts education can do for you. Look at all the crazy stuff I have done. I’d take on something, and I would have to learn how to do it, but I had enough background that I could write, or do whatever was required.