In the last Historical Essay, No.16, I introduced myself as the newest citizen of Deerfield Beach; born on October 2, 1941. It was just a few weeks before the December 7, 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, and I always suspected that I was planned by my parents to put my Father, Marlin, age 25 at the time, further back in the line of military draftees. It seems the government drafted the single men first, then the married men with one child, then two children, etc. However, my parents denied that was the case, but always smiled many years tater whenever t would bring it up.

Regardless, my father was never directly in the military during World War II. However he was on the list next to be called if President Truman hadn’t dropped the big bomb in 1945. Maybe that is why Dad always thought Harry Truman was our best President.

However, Dad did contribute to the war effort by utilizing our company facilities and manpower to help maintain the equipment at the new Army Air Force base in Boca Raton. I remember being told that he received an official letter from the Army ordering him to put any of their needs in front of civilian needs for a certain period of time.

The Army had also taken over the Boca Raton Hotel at the time to house military pilots in training. Dad was also on call there to fix or repair anything needed by the Hotel. This obligation endeared him to the Hotel’s maintenance managers, which continued many years after the War. In fact I personally remember when the big hurricane of 1947 occurred, the Hotel managers invited Dad and our family to leave the insecurity of our little wood frame house on Dixie Highway in Deerfield, and stay in the big sturdy Boca Raton Hotel for the duration of the storm. It was neat to be there, but our room felt like a dungeon because it was dark and cold and there was no electricity once the winds started howling. Dad helped them fix things as the wind and rain did their damage.

Meanwhile, back to the war years, Dad also had a nighttime job at the Boca Hotel. He played guitars and sang in the Hotel band that entertained the soldiers. He played both Hawaiian and acoustic style guitars. Mother also sang in the band sometimes and they did duets together. They made a number of lifelong friends from the soldiers who passed through, many of who came back here to live after the war.

I have relatively few memories from those early years. However, I remember there was an airplane that crashed in the woods about 100 yards east of our house, which would put it in the middle of present day Pioneer Park. Years later my friends and I would still find pieces of it scattered around the area. I also have vague wartime memories of soldiers marching down Dixie Highway in front of our house. I remember the distinctive thud sounds of their boots striking the pavement, and the sight of them in their uniforms as I peeked through our white picket fence in the front yard. Occasionally a soldier would see me, grin and wave. I would give him my biggest smile and excitedly wave back.

David Eller