Like my paternal grandparents, my maternal grandfather Ray, his older brother Art, his younger brother Bernie, and his in-law Chuck (whose daughter married Ray’s son) served in the military during World War II. Their respective children contributed their father’s photo in uniform and short bio to the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center‘s exhibit on Jewish WWII soldiers.

Raymond Marcus

Raymond Marcus was inducted into the US Army in August 1942. He was 21 years old. Scoring high on mechanical aptitude tests, Ray was assigned to the 3476 Ordinance MAM Company, a unit comprised of auto and diesel mechanics, gun smiths, black smiths, and heavy equipment operators. On June 7, 1944, Ray drove an equipment-laden, 2 ½ ton GMC 6X6 (nicknamed “Ruthless” after his wife Ruth who he married two days before shipping out overseas), up onto Omaha Beach and ultimately across France, Belgium, Holland, and finally into Germany. At war’s end, Ray’s company was awarded the Distinguished Service Unit Citation for their gallantry in five major battles. Ray passed away in May 2010. He is survived by Ruth, his two children, five grandchildren, and (to date) two great-grandchildren.

Arthur Marcus

Arthur J. Marcus joined the Army Air Force in 1942 after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He had previously taken flying lessons as a hobby and was hoping to be trained as a combat pilot. While imperfect eyesight kept him from flying, his extensive knowledge of airplanes did qualify him to be trained as a flight engineer and airplane mechanic. Arthur attained the rank of Master Sergeant and was assigned to the China Burma India Theatre. He and his crew spent the war ferrying a diverse variety of airplanes between air bases in Asia and the Pacific Islands, supporting and supplying the advancing troops. He may not have reached his personal goal of becoming a combat pilot, but he took great pride in knowing he was a part of a noble effort.

Bernard Marcus

As a teenager, Bernie Marcus wanted to go off to war like his older brothers Art and Ray. He tried to enlist in the Marines when he was only 15 and a half years old, but they found out he was too young and sent him home. He finally was able to enter the Navy in June 1945 as the war was winding down.

In less than a year, Bernie rose to Petty Officer 3rd Class, serving as a clerk/typist. He spent much of his time typing discharge orders for thousands of grateful sailors.

Following his discharge from the Navy, Bernie joined thousands of GIs who were sent to college under the GI Bill. That same year, he married his high school sweetheart, (Harriet) Louise Moshel, and went to work for his father’s paintbrush business, the Marcus Brush Company. Bernie and Louise eventually had 4 children and left Chicago for California, purchasing a retail patio and garden business. He retired in 1990.

Louise has passed on, but Bernie still lives in California near his daughter. He is blessed with five grandchildren.

Charles Milner

The opportunity to learn to fly led U.S. Army First Lieutenant Charles Milner to give up command of an artillery battery in coastal Alaska in 1944 and to volunteer for the very dangerous job of artillery spotter. First Chuck received flight training. Then he was taught to pilot an unarmed, canvas and balsa-constructed airplane low and slow over enemy lines, while radioing target coordinates to artillery units. Chuck was awaiting orders to go overseas when the war ended. Following his discharge from the Army, Chuck returned to Chicago, his hometown, and took up his career as a wholesale diamond jeweler and gemologist. Chuck passed away in 2001 at the age of 82. He is survived by his wife, two daughters, and four grandchildren.

It’s been 67 years since my paternal grandparents posed for this wedding photo. When I sit for mine, I won’t be as young as they were and I doubt I’ll be serving in the military. But I hope I’ll express their energy and integrity — I hope to this day I have, and will continue to do so, regardless of nuptials. What an honor that would be, and what a blessing to have benefited from my grandparents’ (and parents’) examples.

My father, their proud son, wrote the following biography for the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center in Skokie (the city in which all four of my grandparents resided for decades, and my parents went to high school):

Eleanor Harris of Chicago, IL, enlisted in the Marines with her best friend, Mary Arkes, in 1943, when they were both 19 years old. Eleanor left Roosevelt College in Chicago and was sent to Washington, DC, as a Private 1st Class, where she worked in a clerical capacity believed to be in the Department of Maps. Justin Felt enlisted in the Navy in 1942, even though it represented a hardship since he was the sole support of his mother. He was first sent to the University of Minnesota for special courses based upon his initial entrance exam scores. Upon completion, he was assigned, as an Electrician’s Mate 3rd Class, to a secret project in Virginia involving torpedo guidance systems. Eleanor and Justin met in Chicago while both were on leave, the result of a blind-date “fix-up” from a mutual friend. They continued to correspond by mail and met when they could since both were stationed on the East Coast. They married in July 1945, while both were still in the service, just before both were returned to civilian status. Eleanor became an elementary school teacher and Justin returned to his position in the composing room of the Chicago Sun (later to become the Sun-Times). They were married for 45 years until their passing 5 months apart in 1990. They are survived by 2 sons, Richard and Robert, 3 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren to date.

I remember the day my grandpa died. It was the first time I’d seen my father cry. This is what Dad emailed today to my uncle, brother, sister, and me:

Today was the 22nd anniversary of my father’s (Yosef ben Moshe) passing. I chanted the haftorah and associated prayers in his memory at shabbos services today, and also told a story about him to the congregation. I’m not sure if you ever heard it, but Mom had not, so here it is.

It goes back to the 50’s when dad worked for the Chicago Sun (later to merge with the Daily Times to become the Sun-Times) in the composing room. Television was in its youth then (we got our first, a Motorola floor-cabinet model in 1951), and dad and his printer-friend Jack Vrtjack decided that there could be a bright future in radio/TV repair. They were both very handy and soon became quite proficient (self-taught) in electronic repair. They dreamed of their own business, free from the shackles of corporate employment. But they decided on a trial-run, before they quit their day jobs.

One day, dad got a call from a woman whose set did not work. She turned the ON knob but to no avail. Dad came home from work and drove right to her house in Chicago. She showed him the problem, and he moved to the back of the set while she watched him work. There was high-voltage danger associated with the picture tube, and so the set had to be unplugged from the wall even to remove the back panel. Dad traced the cord to the wall and saw that the plug was already ajar. Before doing anything with the back panel, he pushed the plug all the way into the outlet and retried the set. It worked. That had been the problem.

He put his tools away and informed the lady that the service-call charge was whatever. She refused to pay. She said that apparently there had actually been nothing wrong with the set, and he had only spent 2 minutes or so without having had to “fix” anything. He argued with her for awhile about his travel time, gasoline, etc, but upon realizing just the sort of mind that he was dealing with, he let it go and left without having been paid. Plans for a business based upon dealing with the public were scrapped, and Dad (and Jack) remained at the newspaper, Dad for 45 years.

I learned from Dad via this episode that there are times to dig-in one’s heels, stand firm, and fight. And there are other times when, after appropriate consideration of the issues and the relative merit of a hard line, it is better to disengage and live to fight another day for something really important. This lesson served me well during my years dealing with the public professionally, and in my private life in general as well.

How can I ever express my gratitude for such a rich inheritance?

The 90th birthday of Ruth Feldman Marcus + Hanukkah celebrations

Tag Archives: Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center

War stories

Raymond Marcus

Arthur Marcus

Bernard Marcus

Charles Milner

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