By Theo Francis
Daily Record
When Charlotte Hoffman tells people she is a member of
the American Gold Star Mothers, many congratulate her,
thinking that a gold star simply means a job well done.
"When you had parades," she said recently,
"they had the Gold Star Mothers riding in front.
People didnt even know who we were."
For thousands of women since 1928, the gold star has
stood for an exclusive group they never wanted to join
women whose children died serving in the armed
forces. Hoffman lost her son, Larry Wayne Maysey, during
the Vietnam War, and has belonged ever since.
Once more than 32,000 strong, with enough clout to
sway Congress and the president, the American Gold Star
Mothers now counts fewer than 1,400 members nationwide,
with just 62 in New Jersey.
A plaque on the Morristown Green honors them, but the
Morris County chapter has dwindled to just Hoffman, its
only active member. Ann Burns, a 103-year-old Morris View
nursing home resident who lost her son three days after
the invasion of Normandy during World War II, is probably
the oldest Gold Star Mother in the nation.
Ann Hanrahan, Burns granddaughter in Cedar
Knolls, remembers accompanying her grandmother to parades
and bingo games after her fathers death in 1944,
the older woman wearing the white dress of the
organization on holidays.
"They always used to put a gold star wreath at
the various monuments (on Memorial Day)," Hanrahan,
59, remembered recently. For Christmas, the group would
decorate a tree on the Morristown Green, putting a gold
star at the very top.
Most younger Americans, however, have never heard of
the group.
"They say, Oh, thats nice, and
right away you know they dont have any idea,"
said Frankford Township resident Anna Biber, a past
president of the national organization and president of
the Paterson chapter, which now encompasses most of
northern New Jersey.
The Gold Star Mothers was once among the most revered
institutions in the nation, according to G. Kurt Piehler,
director of the Rutgers University Oral History Archive
of World War II.
Even before the group was founded, the mothers of
soldiers killed in World War I were known by the gold
star as part of a government effort to avoid demoralizing
symbols like black crepe, Piehler said.
It was a potent symbol. As a boy, Robert Traceys
younger brother, Don, delivered telegrams in Morristown,
some bearing the worst news.
"If it had a gold star on the telegram,"
Tracey, a former town postmaster, remembered, "he
knew he had to get a priest or minister before he
delivered it."
Chartered by Congress in 1928, the American Gold Star
Mothers honored women as mothers and nurturers, part of
the same sentiment that gave birth to Mothers Day
two decades earlier.
Soon, the group lobbied the government that created
it. Some 30 percent of those killed in World War I were
buried overseas, and the Gold Star Mothers urged a
postwar Congress to pay for each mothers visit to
her sons European grave.
They succeeded, despite President Calvin
Coolidges notorious frugality, with racially
segregated pilgrimages taking the mothers to cemeteries
in France and Belgium, Piehler said.
The group continued to thrive during and after World
War II, and, though the government-paid pilgrimages
ended, the mothers influence remained strong,
Piehler said.
John F. Kennedy invoked the group during his
presidential campaign, and on a visit to Morristown
during his own 1968 campaign, Robert F. Kennedy lauded
the organization as well, walking over to touch a 1946
plaque honoring the group at the Greens southern
corner, remembered Tracey, then a Morristown alderman.
The organization began to decline as the Cold War
intensified, Piehler said. The Korean and Vietnam wars
were less popular, and those killed in battle were no
longer kept overseas until the fighting stopped.
Vietnam War mothers were at first excluded from some
chapters, remembered Biber, whose son, Joseph, was killed
in Southeast Asia in 1968. Today, most of the
groups members lost children in Vietnam.
Biber and others attribute the membership decline to a
weakened sense of patriotism and difficulty publicizing
the organization.
"People are less willing to be part of
anything," said Jeanne Penfold, the groups
national service officer in Washington, D.C.
The group doesnt advertise, and it often
cant find the mothers of fallen soldiers, she said.
The military only releases names and hometowns, not full
addresses, for those who die on active duty.
Biber tries to send letters to New Jersey parents.
Sometimes it works, more often it doesnt. So the
group relies, as it has for decades, on word of mouth.
Hoffman joined when her son was declared missing in
Laos in late 1967, after three local Gold Star Mothers
invited her in. She found both patriotic and emotional
reasons to stay.
"In my heart, I thought it might help Larry if he
knew I was standing behind him," Hoffman said.
"It means a lot to me, being a Gold Star Mother. It
keeps us up on whats going on."
Penfold said she sees hope in the future.
"More organizations are starting to honor their
Gold Star Mothers in their areas," said Penfold, who
receives more queries each year from mayors and civic
groups nationwide. "Were gradually getting it
back."
|