| |
| Waiting
in line with friends
at a Washington restaurant |
Today we take for granted waiting in line. But during the war,
it was a new approach in this country for handling overflow
crowds in almost every circumstance.
Though the term “queue” may be a British term, most
of us had added it to our American vocabulary by the end of
the war. The addition of so many thousands of people to Washington'
s population made many people aggressive and angry, and created
a major challenge of everything from buying groceries to boarding
a bus. Despite many long waits, we were grateful most of the
time for the rational behavior that queues returned to our lives.
This plan of service was not with us in the beginning when
wartime shortages first began to occur. At first it was a question
of “every man for himself” and “to the victor
belonged the spoils.” Pushing, shoving, snatching, tripping
and elbowing all seemed within the limits of fair play. Timid
or polite people never seemed to succeed. They were so outnumbered
by their aggressive neighbors that any merchandise for sale
would be long gone before they caught the eye of a store clerk.
The determination of shoppers did not stop with pushing. Broken
store windows were not uncommon and a street fight or hair-pulling
contest were just ordinary affairs and aroused no undue curiosity.
And so it was a relief to find an orderly way to handle the
problem.
Lining Up Becomes
a Way of Life…
Before long, the mere sight of people lined up anywhere was
enough to encourage bystanders to join the queue. Speculation
generally ran high regarding the cause of any particular line
formation. And not everyone knew the reason they were waiting
in line. One true story was typical:
A friend' s quiet and rather timid elderly neighbor
stood in line on the street behind hundreds of others and anxiously
awaited her turn to be served. Once her tiresome ordeal had
been completed and she finally had reached the clerk, she breathlessly
inquired, “What's being sold?”
The astonished sales person looked at her in amazement but
quickly replied, “Cigarettes! Two packs to a customer.”
The pitiful old lady faltered, trembled and nearly burst into
tears. “But I don't smoke!” she wailed. All her time
and effort lost!
Like the little old lady, many individuals took their places
at the end of a queue without bothering to find out for what
they were waiting, fearful lest they miss out on the rare appearance
of a rationed item.
Two distinct types of queues became popular: waiting in a line
and taking a number.
The rationing of coffee was the direct
cause of the first long queue that I recall. Not only was coffee
strictly rationed but, for a time, it was often impossible to
find anywhere or at any price.
If a merchant should be brave enough
to make known the fact that he had ladies' stockings for sale,
he might just as well begin clearing the aisles at once in preparation
for the stormy siege and long lines about to form in his store.
Queuing for Buses Solved Many Problems…
Queues were a wonderful innovation for those waiting on street
corners for a bus. Before the war, most suburban-bound buses
always stopped at the same places along their routes. But with
the war came an enormous increase in competition for public
transportation.
We might wait hopefully for hours in the designated loading
area, only to have our bus stop twenty yards away behind several
other different buses. By the time we had pushed our way through
the crowds to our bus we were usually greeted with the swishing
sound of the bus doors closing right in our face. “Filled
up! Next bus, please!”
Even if we managed to board our bus, we still had to fight
our way to a seat. It was a tough job, for in addition to squeezing
out all our equally anxious fellow passengers, our bundles had
to compete with all their bulky packages, umbrellas and briefcases.
It was a fight to the finish, every inch of the way.
There was always a mad scramble, too, for the very last position
inside the bus — the
position on the bottom step of the stairs where the bus door
could slap us in the rear as it closed and the man on the step
above could mash our toes to a pulp when he lost his balance.
The bus driver and the would-be passengers were never in agreement
about the maximum number of riders the bus could actually accommodate.
Each passenger felt certain there was always room for him and
he would cling tenaciously to the doorstep while the driver
would frantically try to close the door. Occasionally the drivers
had to physically pry would-be passengers from their precarious
foothold and forcibly evict them from the bus in order to close
the door.
The passengers' stubbornness in this respect was a constant
source of annoyance to the drivers. Some of them became so upset
over the state of affairs within their conveyance that they
simply up and left us all — stranded,
deserted, sans driver. Jobs were easy to find. Why should they
bother to be bus drivers anyhow when their customers were so
darned cantankerous and contrary?
And so everyone was much happier when bus officials and customers
alike adopted the use of queues as an impartial means of boarding
the public buses. Boarding was still on a “first-come”
basis, but at least under the new system no one questioned the
priority rights of the early arrivals.
Even though we might be too far back in the line to gain entrance
to the first bus stopping in front of our queue, at least our
plight was not hopeless. We could see we were making progress
and in due time we, too, would be en route home.
Waiting, Waiting, Everywhere…
Although we did not wait on foot at the filling stations we
waited in line just the same. Since so many stations had closed
for the duration and since there were periodic gasoline shortages,
the stations which did remain open and which did have gas to
sell were the scenes of mechanized queues.
We might begin our wait blocks away from the filling station
but, regardless of the distance, we were surely not going to
allow our gasoline coupon to expire unused. We might use up
the remainder of our precious gas starting and stopping a hundred
times en route to the pump, or we might use as much idling along,
but wait we did.
It was in a meat market that I had my first experience in the
practice of “taking a number.” Unfortunately, no one
had let me in on the secret ahead of time. I had been in the
store for some time and had completed all my shopping before
reaching the meat department. Hopefully edging forward in an
attempt to catch the eye of the butcher, I met with no opposition
and only the indifferent glances of my companions.
I was amazed at this unusual turn of events and felt that luck
must indeed be with me. But the joke was on me when I discovered
that these apparently easygoing shoppers already possessed their
numbers and were waiting their turns. When someone finally told
me about the new procedure and I grabbed my number from the
rack, there were some fifty customers ahead of me.
Restaurants were generally so crowded that we were lucky to
get anything at all to eat. If we were too late for one meal
we could at least console ourselves that by continuing to stand
in line we might stand a chance at being served for the next.
In some restaurants we waited in an actual line to secure a
table. Different lines were formed to correspond with the number
of persons in a party. If an individual would be dining alone,
he joined one line. If there were two, three or more in a party,
we entered different lines.
Generally we waited within clear view of the fortunate diners
and we could watch them enjoy their meal. We envied them every
mouthful and begrudged them every second they wasted between
bites. We were certain that never before had we seen people
eat so slowly.
Bakeries, shoe stores, shoe repair shops and barbers shops
all soon followed suit and inaugurated a similar system of orderly
customer service.
Laundries Added Their Twist to the Queue…
The local laundries provided an unusual variation of the queue
system. We waited in line to present our soiled clothing and
the laundry always accepted it. We waited in line to get it
back, too, but were never certain when that would be —
all we knew was it was more likely to be a month
than a week. Fighting the system was of no use as the laundries
were operating with little help and, often, worn out machinery.
Along with diminished laundry service, men's shirts seemed
to have disappeared from the stores. Military uniforms required
starched shirts, but most of us had no laundry facilities in
our apartments or anywhere else. We had little choice other
than to wash some shirts in the sink and hope for a return of
the rest of our laundry before desperation set in.
Sometimes the laundry situation
created comical encounters. Once, while waiting for his only remaining
military shirt to dry, my husband donned “civvies” and
went out on an errand. En route, he was flagged down by a couple
of teenagers in need of a ride. Since he was headed in the opposite
direction, he passed them by — only
to be followed down the street by their disgusted catcalls, “We
don't ride with civ-il-yans! 4-F! 4-F!” He was mortified!
No one wanted to be perceived as shirking military service. To
this day, he blames the sluggish laundry for his embarrassment.
Sometimes Even Queues Did Not Help…
Many pre-war services were unobtainable no matter how long we
waited in line, no matter how many numbers we took and no matter
how far ahead of time we attempted to schedule an appointment.
The professional rug cleaners, for example, were overwhelmed
with work. The Washington area was filled with wartime landlords,
each of whom wanted carpets cleaned between frequent changes
in tenants. Eventually, the carpet cleaners actually issued
a public request begging prospective customers to leave them
alone.
And so we went on waiting in one line after
another. Whether you call them lines or queues, this system
seems to have become one of those wartime innovations that remained
part of everyday living. Those of us who remember wartime life
pre-queue will never complain!
