World War II Woman

Charlotte at Immigration & Naturalization

After her job ended at Army Ordnance, Charlotte went to work at Immigration and Naturalization. Her immediate boss was a lawyer whose task it was to send prostitutes back to the countries from which they had come. Charlotte took dictation and prepared the manuscripts that were used in the trials. She worked six days a week in this job, instead of seven as previously.

The women were picked up on the streets of Philadelphia by government men pretending they were not who they said they were. At one point, Charlotte’s lawyer boss said, “Charlotte, you don’t want to do anything like that,” to which she replied, “I don’t have to. Those poor woman don’t have any choice.”

The overall boss of the department stood by the door and checked the workers in every day. At lunch, he checked them out, and as they came back from lunch, he was there again to check them in. Needless to say, most people were five minutes early.

Her cousin in the Army told her about a friend who was lonely and asked her to write to him. Much to her surprise, he showed up at her grandmother’s door one day to stay for a week. The Army had pulled out all his front teeth and, to her horror, they had not yet replaced them. She was greatly embarrassed as she took him around to the Liberty Bell, Art Museum, and other places of interest in Philadelphia, afraid that she would see someone she knew.

While working at I & N, she met her husband Grant on a blind date. He had been in the Coast Guard stationed on a ship off the coast of Greenland. Her grandmother did not have a phone, so the woman across the street allowed Charlotte to take calls on her phone. The neighbor would open her door and call to Charlotte, “You have a phone call.”

She recalls how very hot it was in Philadelphia (and still is) back then, but, of course, there was no air-conditioning and few fans. Most anything that was manufactured was sent to the military. If she planned to go out after work, she liked to take a shower before going. Her grandmother had a few choice words to say about that. “You are washing your life away,” or “You’ll wash all your energy away.”

At 83, Charlotte hasn’t washed away her life or her energy.

For more World War II stories, go to www.peggeorge.com

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