Veterans Day, 1938

Dad goes to war

This morning, an email from John, the historian of the family: "Veterans Day, 1938: 79 years today, Grandma and Grandpa and Dad drive into Los Angeles." There's a sister in this story too, but as my family lore tends to go, she's forever referred to as "the ex-sister." Don't ask.

It's a classic Depression Era story: the Starrs descending on Los Angeles, via Brooklyn, broke and looking to start over. Dad is 17, one year of City College under his belt. Grandpa -- "I'm in textiles" -- has lost the schmata store and is working out of his car. Someone breaks in, steals the fabric and they change locales, shlepping to California, where relatives offer to help them get settled. I have no idea who these relatives are, but thanks for the help, nice people.

I never saw him eat one of these.

Grandpa and Dad go to work at a donut factory, Grandpa driving a truck without brakes, and Dad making donuts. He eats so many donuts, he vows to never eat one again. Slowly, the Starrs, formerly of Brooklyn, get back on their feet, as the saying goes. Grandpa opens a tiny closet of a store to sell fabrics from, somewhere downtown. Dad goes to UCLA and in the summer, works with Grandpa. Dad is not meant for textiles. He's majoring in accounting. He's not meant for that, either. Slowly, Grandpa grows his textiles empire, eventually opening a number of stores and building a nice big house on Highland Avenue, while Dad is off at war, fighting the Nazis.

Dad, top row, third, with his squadron 

The Distinguished Flying Cross 

He comes home a hero, lives in the nice house for awhile, starts writing short stories and radio skits and sells something to Jack Benny. He meets a nice girl...

Under the chuppah with Jerry and Sheldon and Gloria June

Variety mention

A classic story, and it all started on Veterans Day, 1938. Something I always forget. Once again, thanks for the reminder, sweet brother. Where would I be without you?
(11-14)