WW II and Radio School

January 16, 1942. Helen and I went back to Lincoln County, Tennessee. The move was partly prompted by the pending draft that was now certain. According to the papers and radio, those engaged in farming were more likely to be given an exemption and I preferred to register in Tennessee rather than Chicago, where my status as a bell-hop would just about guarantee me a free ride to the induction center. We were playing the odds, with high stakes at risk. Dad and mother came down in April and prepared to plant a cotton crop.

Helen Crawford Marsh

Timothy Richard Marsh

I suppose looking back now, it was inevitable that at sometime I would be called up for the draft but I would have been foolish not to put it off as long as possible. We planted a cotton crop on the little farm that had been idle. On February 2, 1942, about a month after we arrived back, I registered for the draft. I still carry the card in my billfold, why I don't know, except one never knows when one may be called up. I remember that Leonard Mansfield, who had been my Ag. and Civics teacher two years before, casually said while he signed my card "Timothy you look like you would make a good infantry man." Needless to say I didn't split my gut laughing. I swore then that I would not lay down and play dead.

On July 1, 1942, I was classified as 1 A. "Oh Joy." We evaluated our situation once again. I still had this radio thing in my blood, having continued to study from magazines and used books I had purchased while working for St. Luke's. I had heard about Coyne Radio School and had some of their ads in my possession. We had talked about it as a possibility and learned from Mr. Burt Mansfield that Clayton Rutledge, his nephew and a friend of mine had gone to Chicago to go to Coyne Radio School and had received a student deferment until he finished. Dad had gone back to Chicago on June 14, 1942. He checked out the school, its payment plan, etc.

Being class 1 A was a shock to ones system,it did not mean immediate call up, it just meant that I could be called if the board needed me to meet a quota. We continued with our plans to go back to Chicago and go to Coyne. Dad had located an apartment on West Congress Street and near Coyne. With assistance of his old Greek friend Harry, he landed a job at Presbyterian Hospital, also on West Congress. Harry, the Greek, had worked with dad at St. Luke's in 1941-1942.

July 14, 1942. Back to Chicago, a 21 year old 1 A with a 20 year old pregnant wife. We had a basement apartment (no stairs for Helen now) on Congress Street within walking distance of Coyne, the El, and an Italian grocery store named "Leo's Market." Dad and Leo became good friends.

July 21, 1942. Started to Coyne Radio School, enrolling in the Complete Radio and Communications course. Coyne was a four story white brick building, large facility, at that time one of the largest schools in the U.S., that stood at Congress and Ashland. This area of West Congress is now Eisenhower Expressway. We rented a typewriter from Webster Typewriter Company, a couple of blocks west of us, and Helen typed my class notes (still have one of the notebooks). I know, it was a hot August and September. We went to the show a lot up Ogden and Halstead, was near Weibolts Department Store, that we patronized, got lots of baby things there before Marsha was born.

Coyne Radio School

September 11, 1942. Graduate from Coyne, now I are now smart. No job yet, start looking for a ob through the ads in the Tribune and through the School Replacement Service.

October 1, 1942. Dad had gone back home to pick the cotton crop planted in May. Dad had purchased an old worn out mule for $40.00 to do the work. After he picked the cotton and sold it, he pastured the old mule and went back to Chicago to his job he had taken leave from. No buyer for the old mule. Dad wrote granddad to give away or turn him out. Granddad wrote back saying, "Rich, that's immoral, I won't do it." Dad got a long weekend, caught a bus down, took the old mule to town on first Monday (that's mule day), sold the old mule for an overcoat, put it on, went to the bus station and caught a bus back to Chicago. Wonder who got the best of that deal?