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| The day
a B-25 Bomber crashed into the Empire State Building | |
| by Gloria Pall | |
| I was there on July 28, 1945, when an Army Air Corps B-25 Mitchell bomber flew directly into the Empire State Building. Ever since I was six years old, living in Brooklyn with my parents and brother in a basement flat six steps below the ground, I yearned for heights and wanted to fly. By the time I was 16, World War II was in full swing, and I was taking flying lessons and learning to be an aircraft mechanic. I left home to work at a huge air depot in Rome, New York. There I learned to service all the military planes used in the war. I had been working for the government for a couple of years when the war in Europe came to an end. Berlin fell on May 2, 1945, and Germany announced Hitler's suicide. The unconditional surrender terms were signed on May 8, which became known as VE (Victory in Europe) Day. I was in New York City watching the ticker-tape parade, standing outside the 5th Avenue entrance to the Empire State Building, when I was suddenly caught up in the crowd's excitement and pushed inside the revolving door entrance to this 102-story, 1,250-foot high marvel of architecture. Built in the early 1930s, it fronted on Fifth Avenue between 33rd and 34th streets, and at that time, was the tallest building in the whole world. I suddenly realized I wanted to work there, high up. The elevator captain told me there were two openings. One was for a Catholic War Relief Services Group, nice and high up on the 79th floor, but they turned me down because I was Jewish. |
The other opening was for the United Services Organization Headquarters on the job because I wanted to work in the Empire State Building the 56th floor, Although the take-home pay was only $21.00, just like the lowest-ranked soldiers were getting, I took the job because I wanted to work in the Empire State Building. I was a stock and file clerk and my work week included a half-day on Saturday, every other week. My boss, Mr. Rader, was a grumpy guy, a chronic complainer who was nasty to everyone. I loved looking out the window at the Statue of Liberty, when Mr. Radar wasn't around, and watching the troop ships returning from World War II, moving slowly like a giant snail into New York Harbor. I couldn't help but wonder if my favorite neighborhood boyfriend, reportedly killed in Europe, might actually be returning with them. I had helped my friend Joan get a job. On our lunch hour we would go up to the observation deck to watch the troop ships arriving. We'd use our purse makeup mirrors to reflect the sun and get the attention of the troops on deck. With our binoculars we could see them waving back, then they would flash their shaving mirrors at us—probably in Morse code. We would flash back at them, but since neither of us knew Morse code we didn't know what we were flashing. As I think back now, I hope we didn't say anything dirty or too awful. We just wanted to say "Welcome back boys, we love you. You're our heroes." |
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