On December 4, 1943, the Saturday Evening Post cover featured Westport illustrator Stevan Dohanos’ painting of our town’s Honor Roll.
It stood in front of the old Town Hall (now Don Memo and Walrus Alley restaurants). The magazine called it “Honoring the Dead.”
In fact, it honored all the Westporters then serving in World War II. In late 1943, victory was not yet assured. It was a terrible time. Many of those whose names were outside Town Hall did not make it home.
Town Hall is now on Myrtle Avenue. Plaques across the street — on Veterans Green — memorialize Westporters killed in several wars. This is the one for World War II:
Veterans Green is also where a ceremony takes place, immediately after today’s parade (approximately 10:30 a.m.). It is sobering and inspiring; mournful and uplifting.
It does not take long. There are a couple of speeches, some rousing march music, the laying of a wreath, the playing of “Taps.”
So many Westporters have sacrificed so much, to ensure the freedoms we have today.
The brief Veterans Green ceremony is one small way by which we can honor them.
If you have been to the Memorial Day ceremony, you know what I mean.
Jesup Green has been in the news lately. Plans to add parking spots at the top — and, later, more green space near the Saugatuck River — have sparked controversy.
The small park in the center of town has long been a gathering spot, for joyful celebrations and solemn ceremonies.
For decades, it was the end point for the Memorial Day parade. Speeches, patriotic songs and 21-gun salutes followed (as kids rode their bikes in the parking lot, and the Good Humor man did a brisk business).
In 1965, Staples student Adam Stolpen delivered the Memorial Day address. Others in the photo include Westport resident and former Connecticut Governor John Davis Lodge (Navy cap) and World War I veteran and grand marshal E.O. Nigel Cholmeley-Jones (in uniform).
In August of 2013, Jesup Green was packed for a different type of ceremony.
Hundreds of Westporters honored the town’s Little League all-stars. They’d just returned from the Little League World Series, where they made a magical run all the way to the finals.
Jeb Backus marveled, “As a 3rd-generation Westporter living here for 50 years, this was the most special town event I have ever attended. Absolutely amazing.”
(Photo/Jeb Backus)
NOTE: That’s not the first connection between Jesup Green and Little League. In the 1950s and ’60s, there was a baseball diamond a few yards away — near where the Westport Library is now.
And next to both: the town dump. I’m not making this up.
More recently, Jesup Green has been the site of rallies: for Black Lives Matter, and against anti-Asian and antisemitic incidents.
It’s also where Westport Pride holds its LGBTQ+ celebration every June.
Local clergy members on Jesup Green, at Westport Pride.
Jesup Green is where Westporters gather, in good times and bad.
President Franklin D. Roosevelt died on April 12, 1945 — exactly 79 years ago today.
Two days later, stores throughout Westport closed.
Residents headed to the green. They sang “America,” “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and “Abide With Me.”
Veterans fired a military salute. The somber sounds of “Taps” filled the air.
As it had been for decades — and continues to be today, Jesup Green was Westport’s town square.
(Courtesy of Cindy Buckley)
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As Memorial Day approaches, longtime Westporter Tom Feeley writes:
It was 1945. The war in Germany was almost over. But SFC Mike Brody and the POWs did not know it.
Fast forward to 1973. I moved from San Francisco to Westport. As a Vietnam veteran, I joined VFW Joseph J. Clinton Post 399 VFW. I walked in the Memorial Day parade, attended the solemn Veterans Day ceremony, and made a bunch of new WWII NCO friends with CIBs, even a Silver Star.
My left shoulder had the Third Infantry Division Patch from 1/15 INF CAN DO, so I was real good with the WWII guys. I also led Audie Murphy’s platoon.
Junior Bieling
Westport veteran and Silver Star awardee Junior Bieling usually wore a coat over his uniform to hide his medal, out of modesty. He owned JR’s Hot Dog Stand.
I busted his chops: “You should be very proud. If an enlisted man earns a Silver Star, he really earned it.”
“Not too many officers would say that,” he replied.
On Fridays if I went in for a dog, I left smashed on his vodka screwdrivers. “Tom, the booze is on the house, but ya gotta pay for the dogs!”
There was also a burly Tech SFC Mike Brody, with ribbons and a CIB. He was from Brooklyn. I’m from Queens, with Brooklyn friends, so we became buddies. We ran into each other at the beach occasionally, and chatted.
He was almost 6 feet tall, built like a tanker. He had a contagious smile and a very quick wit.
The three of us hung out in the VFW bar after ceremonies or meetings. Those guys knew everyone.
Fast forward again, to 2000. I owned a boutique real estate firm. I had sold a beautiful modern home in Weston to inventor genius Bob Soloff and his wife Carol, also from Brooklyn. They held a beautiful catered open house for friends after the sale.
To my surprise, SFC Mike Brody showed up. We were a few hours into drinking when I asked Carol, ”Where do you know this guy Mike from?“
“He’s my little Jewish buddy from Brooklyn!” she said.
“What? Mike? Brody is a Jewish name?!”
In Jackson Heights you were Irish Catholic, Italian or Jewish, with a sprinkling of Protestants. We busted the Jews’ yarmulkes on Saturday, and they busted our Sunday ties or knickers.
Mike turned to Carol. “You’ve asked me about the war many times. I’ve had enough to drink that I’ll finally share my story with you and Tom.”
He continued:
“We were laying field radio wire, got encircled, captured and put in a concentration camp. I was a platoon sergeant, so I had some freedom to move about and interact with guards. who randomly asked to see my dog tags.
World War II prisoner of war camp, in Germany.
“Months later a new slender guard showed up. He was quite different, because he didn’t walk his post bored. He was alert and interested in what was going on behind the fence.
“I saw him a lot, and tried to be nice. He asked me where I was from. When I said Brooklyn, his eyes lit up. He called me ‘Brooklyn!’ from then on.
“One day he was looking for me. He pointed to the far corner of the camp, for me to go there. With a corner post and a lamp pole, it was hidden from the guard towers. He put his index finger to his lips and in perfect English said, ‘Not a word! Give me your dog tags. Return here tomorrow after breakfast. Not a word!'”
“I figured with no tags, I was dead. The next day we met. He returned one tag on the long chain — missing the long chain. He said ‘tank treads,’ and disappeared.
Some dog tags identified soldiers as Jewish with an “H,” for “Hebrew.”
“The next day, everyone was lined up for dog tags. ‘Jews over here!’ The tag the guard had returned was badly scuffed and twisted, like it was run over by a tank. The ‘JUD’ in the lower right corner had been mangled off.
“All the Jews were separated, and never seen again.”
Mike later learned that the guard was an American college student. He had been visiting his grandparents when he was conscripted and placed in a concentration camp, where he could spy with his bilingual skills.
Mike freed the guard by telling rescuers that the kid was an American citizen, and that he had saved Mike’s life.
That’s just one out of countless stories that our veterans can tell. As they gather for tomorrow’s Memorial Day parade and ceremony — and meet at places like the VFW, to share memories, socialize and enjoy their lives — let’s not forget every man and woman who has served our country.
News of a draft of the Supreme Court’s decision in an important abortion case has sparked nationwide protests.
There’s one planned for 4 p.m. this Sunday — Mother’s Day — on the Ruth Steinkraus Cohen Bridge downtown. Organizers (DefenDemocracy of CT) expect a large turnout.
Want to give Mom something different for Mothers Day weekend? (Psssst…it’s Sunday!)
Take her to join Anthony Zemba at Earthplace on Saturday (May 7, 8 to 10 a.m.). The avid birder/environmental analyst/soil scientist/certified ecologist will lead a group along the trails of the nature and wildlife sanctuary.
Anthony recently joined LandTech, the civil engineering and environmental science firm that’s underwriting the bird walk.
Among the probable wildlife: scarlet tanagers; wood thrush; pileated, red- bellied, hairy and downy woodpeckers; indigo buntings, goldfinch and orioles.
Spots are limited. Click here to register, and for more information.
Calling all bird watchers: See the pileated woodpecker!
Staples was ranked #5 nationally (large schools division), in this year’s 100 Best Wise (Working In Support of Education) High Schools Teaching Personal Finance. It was the top finish for any Connecticut school.
The list and ceremony honor excellence in personal finance education. Congratulations to teachers Lenny Klein and Sarah White — and of course their very “wise” students.
Westporters know that the Memorial Day parade is one of the best community events of the year. Those who stay afterward, for the ceremony on Veterans Green across from Town Hall, know that it is a moving and important way to honor those who gave their lives for our country.
That is the idea of the holiday, after all.
There’s another chance to pay tribute too. That morning (May 30, 7:45 a.m.), the Fire Department honors all who died in service to our nation, and the Westport firefighters who died in the line of duty.
All are welcome at fire headquarters on the Post Road.
Former Westporter Diane (Prezkop) Reed died in November, after a brief illness. She was 71.
Diane graduated from Staples High School in 1968. She participated in intermural sports, and wrote for the school newspaper Inklings and yearbook. She graduated from the University of Connecticut with a BA in English and a master’s in Counseling and Higher Education.
In 1972, Diane married Steven Reed. She began a career at UConn as a research associate, then became assistant director of research and data acquisition for the Institute of Social Inquiry at Storrs.
The couple’s careers took them to Ohio, where Diane worked as an analyst, project director, manager of research operations and operations manager. A final move took them to Michigan, where she worked as marketing group director and director of teleservices. She loved being a mentor and coach to her staff, and enjoyed social and golf activities at Indianwood Golf Club.
After her divorce= Diane created a consulting practice, developing and editing training curricula and coaching management teams. In 2005 Diane returned to Westport to enjoy her family, and pursue her writing.
Friends and family describe Diane as “sweet, witty, compassionate, generous and kind.” She loved literature, science, spectator sports, music and humanity as a whole. She was an avid collector and supporter of local artisans and craftsmen. She was passionate about her family, lifelong learning, and creative writing.
Diane’s siblings were Edward of Seattle, Raymond of Westport, Carole Prescott of Madison, and the late Thomas Prezkop of Newburyport, Massachusetts. She is survived by many nieces, nephews, cousins, great-nieces and great-nephews.
A memorial service to celebrate the lives of Diane and her brother Thomas Prezkop will be held June 29 at Waters Edge in Westbrook. Donations in her name may be made to the Westport Library.
Former Westporter Thomas Prezkop, of Newburyport, Massachusetts, died earlier this year, after a battle with pancreatic neuroendocrine cancer. He was 73.
Tom was raised, and taught himself to sail, here. That started a lifelong love for all things aquatic. He graduated from Staples High School in 1966.
In early 1971 he headed to St. Maarten. There he co-owned and restored a 108-foot ketch, which he chartered. He also managed restaurants, started an omelet café, and captained other boats.
In 1978, Tom settled in Massachusetts. He married his first wife, Linn Anderson, and had a son, Andrew
Tom’s second career was in mechanical design engineering. He worked for medical device companies before founding Andover Medical Development Group, to do component manufacturing. He operated AMDG for 35 years, fulfilling contracts with NASA, Boston Scientific and others.
Tom was a passionate sailor. He was an expert angler, certified scuba diver, licensed pilot and professional cook. He also enjoyed snow skiing, surfing, water skiing barefoot, and golf. He could build and fix anything
Tom passed his patience, creativity and playfulness on to Andrew, in whom he fostered lifelong passions as a musician, athlete, craftsman, outdoorsman, adventurer and father. He was overjoyed to be a grandfather to Avery and Luke.
In 1995, Tom and a friend rescued a fellow boater who had fallen overboard in Gloucester and been seriously injured by the propeller. Tom received a congressional commendation.
In addition to his wife, son, daughter-in-law Geneva Brion and grandchildren, he is survived by his sister Carole Prescott of Madison, and brothers Edward of Seattle and Raymond of Westport, as well as nieces, nephews and cousins. He was pre-deceased by his sister Diane Reed of Westport.
There will be a celebration of life at Water’s Edge in Westbrook on June 29.
Jay Walshon is a longtime Westporter. As Memorial Day nears, he memorializes his father — a World War II veteran — with these loving words:
On May 8, 27 days shy of his 96th birthday, my father Abraham Milton Walshon took his final breath on earth.
Forever he will be my hero.
During my 35 years in emergency medicine I’ve impacted thousands of families and helped save numerous lives. But all that pales in comparison to what my dad did. He helped save civilization from tyranny.
Whereas I worked within controlled confines of safe facilities, using disinfectants and sutures, he practiced in the office of heroism, laboring in mud, muck and mire, foxholes and entrenchments, under duress of bullets, bombs, grenades, and the mortar shells that took too many of his comrades and violated his flesh in 2 separate battles, earning him Purple Hearts among other distinctions of valor: a Bronze Star, the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, Oak Leaf Cluster, 5 Combat Stars, Occupation and Victory Medals.
Abraham Walshon’s medals
It was unnerving to learn that in one Nazi assault a mere twist of fate or divine intervention permitted the perpetuation of his lineage. My father’s unpublished cathartic memoir’s final punctuation mark forever silenced the unspeakable events of those years.
Captioning his youthful image gazing from page, the June 1943 Jefferson High School yearbook notes that “Milty’s” graduation intentions were Brooklyn College and photography. But by its June publication, my dad knew all that must wait. Like for so many of his youth, World War II interrupted personal plans and desires. He turned 18 on the 4th of that month.
One brother enlisted in Army Air Corps bomber reconnaissance in the Pacific. The other served Coast Guard in the Philippines. For my dad, Army infantry under General Dwight Eisenhower awaited.
Abraham Walshon, on his 1943 enlistment.
Noted by their Thunderbird shoulder sleeve insignia with “Semper Anticus” their motto, his 45th Division battled across Africa, Italy, France and Germany. Sicily, Salerno, Anzio, and Rome represented places few tourists can comprehend. Asked later in life why not travel to Europe, he quipped there was no need. He’d seen enough on foot.
Educated under the GI Bill at Packard and Columbia for an unanticipated degree in accounting, my dad set a precedent: the first civilian promoted to deputy inspector general. Base commanders shivered upon his arrival to inspect accounting and procurement records. But any harsh veneer belied the tenderness that lay within.
Forgoing the power and prestige of position so many strive for, Dad prioritized his 68-year love affair with Dorothy and the family they created. He chose to resign the military, rather than uproot our lives to D.C. To my sister and me it never appeared a difficult or regretful decision.
Music filled our Brooklyn childhood home: Jolson, Dorsey, Ella, Satchmo, Steve & Edie, Judy, Barbra, Sammy and Sinatra (who my dad considered a personal friend, having once met him backstage). With his own “Sinatra-esque” vocals that brought him to clubs in NYC, accompanied by his untrained fingers caressing piano keys guided by his remarkable natural ear, our Bensonhurst dwelling was transformed in a fashion only music can do.
Strong, obstinate, sometimes impatient and abrasive (a byproduct of the Depression), proud to a fault, a king of the cha cha, Dad suffered no fools, and was intolerant of superficiality, frivolity, disloyalty or ostentation. Despite his 5-9, 150-pound stature, he never backed down.
Abraham and Dorothy Walshon’s wedding.
Whereas many fathers emphasized popularity, power and fortune, the virtues of modesty, frugality tempered with generosity, and above all else family, became his guiding light – a wisdom obtained from his life being daily imperiled.
With tenderness at his core, and flowing creativity with generosity until his death, my dad gifted every single loved one a personalized poem recognizing each occasion. Each writing was unique, elegant, tender, permeated with love. Going through his belongings, we discovered 4 binders titled “The Loving History of the Walshon Family in Poetry and Rhyme.” Each overflowed with every birthday, wedding, bar mitzvah and anniversary poem he wrote over 7 decades. That was my tough dad.
His photography aspiration ultimately “settled” for many “snapshots,” and a handful of 8mm reels capturing the joys of post-war family milestones – my first bath, a wedding, rides at Coney Island – all borne of one man’s personal celebration of survival, validation of freedom’s triumph, and perhaps a subconscious poke in Germany’s eye that we didn’t merely endure. We indeed prevailed.
Losing the love of his life, severing the 68-year earthly bond to my angelic mother Dorothy 4 years ago, irreparably damaged the spirit that ravages of war had only tarnished. Despite incredible strength for a nonagenarian, independence and a continued presence of mind, these past 4 were not easy or kind. The ravages of time ultimately succeeded where the Nazis had failed.
68 years of happy marriage.
As the Army buglers’s solemn melody embraced the mourners present, and I tearfully watched the flag-adorned coffin lowered beside his devoted love of 73 years, my only regret was not knowing them during their innocence of youth, predating the horrors and darkness that no child should witness, yet so many were forced to endure.
My dad was from a generation of boys who were steeled so that those who followed would not be forced to be. They embodied the true meaning of bravery, selflessness and sacrifice in order to make the world a place worth living for we who have followed. “Duty,” “valor,” a time when mere teenagers knew what was at stake and willingly offered the ultimate sacrifice – not one conscription amongst them. Their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are forever indebted to role models like my dad.
On this Memorial Day we honor, salute and remember the many who have served in freedom’s highest calling – my dad now among them. As for so many others, life will go on, but never the same.
As years pass, our Memorial Day parades may become perfunctory – replete with dogs, burgers, barbecues and beer. Conversely, they should become increasingly meaningful. In April it was estimated that of the 6.1 million WWII veterans, a mere 100,000 remain living. In 5 years perhaps, only a handful of scores; in 10, none. My dad’s passing lessens that 100,000 by only one – but for my family, as for every other, that is an enormous “one.”
Abraham Milton Walshon is not just my hero – he was ours. I pray that his kind are never again needed.
Abraham Walshon (center) with his family (from left): granddaughter Megan, wife Dorothy, Megan’s husband Jason, grandson Zak, daughter-in-law Caroline and son Jay.
Justin Polayes is a 2004 Staples High School graduate. Unlike many of his classmates, he entered the military. This Memorial Day, he reflects on that life — and this day.
As a kid in Westport, Memorial Day was a great time. I walked in the parade as a Little Leaguer, Boy Scout, Bedford Middle School band member, what have you.
The holiday was the start of when dinners moved to the back yard, and life happened at Compo Beach. It was a safe, happy, relaxing day, without much thought of its origins.
A classic Westport Mmeorial Day photo. (Photo/Doris Ghitelman)
In college the holiday was much of the same. It was about summer starting, and usually a road trip home for cookouts and to see family and friends. As a young adult I became a bit more aware of what Memorial Day means. I saw wreaths being laid, tributes on TV, and more on social media.
But it wasn’t until 2 years into my military career that Memorial Day really meant something for me.
My first holiday came in the middle of grueling training and selection. I used that extra day to sleep and rest some injuries.
However, by that second Memorial Day as an active duty member I had already lost friends in combat. It was like a light switch flipped. The entire meaning of the holiday changed. Cookouts and beach lounging were replaced with visiting graves and “memorial workouts” to honor my fallen brothers and sisters.
Justin Polayes (left) spent one Memorial Day on duty in East Africa.
While living in the United Kingdom, the difference between our Memorial Day and their Remembrance Day was noticeable. I lived in a great little town surrounded by families with little children. All the kids wore red poppy pins on their shirts. On Remembrance Day, most families without any military affiliation went to a national military cemetery or war memorial. At the very least almost everyone watched the queen lay a wreath at the Cenotaph (war memorial in London). Once their respects were paid, cookouts and garden parties could begin.
For the last 5 years I’ve been based in Washington D.C. I live only a few miles from Arlington National Cemetery. My Memorial Day tradition now isn’t parades or beach cookouts; it is paying respects to friends.
In lots 62 and 65 alone, my wife (who also served) and I have 19 friends and fellow service members laid to rest. Walking those hallowed grounds on Memorial Day is a true pleasure, something everyone should experience in their lifetime. Politics go out the window. Petty gripes and complaints about daily life mean nothing. You feel small in the face of so many white marble headstones.
Arlington National Cemetery (Photo/Justin Polayes)
There is nothing wrong with how Westport celebrates Memorial Day. However, as a former resident looking inward from afar it does seem the celebrations are more about what we have and not about what we lost.
Westporters have given their lives in service for this country since the founding of our country. A handful are still in harm’s way today. Please take a moment to remember those heroes this Memorial Day.
And please teach the younger generation why.
Youngsters play at Veteran’s Green, after Westport’s 2018 Memorial Day ceremony. (Photo/Ted Horowitz)
On 9/11, Thomas Armas was a Marine. When the World Trade Center collapsed, most people ran for their lives. He ran toward it. Marines, he says simply, are trained to help.
Lt. Col. Armas went on to serve 3 tours of duty, in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Last week, he told his story on our high school’s TV show, “Good Morning Staples.”
Videos featuring service members are a Memorial Day tradition at Staples. Students in TV Production class spend long hours interviewing; selecting photos and music, and weaving together a compelling, instructive film, which is shown in every class.
The iconic photo of Thomas Armas, carrying a wounded woman from the World Trade Center.
This year’s video is one of the best.
With gentle prodding from senior JJ Mathewson, Armas describes that day at Ground Zero, and life in war zones.
But just as compelling are his insights into what it all means.
“People don’t give their lives for their country,” Armas says. “They give it for their hometowns.” That means, he explains, that Americans should have fun on Memorial Day. Going to the beach, a ballgame or barbecue is exactly why men and women have given their lives: so we can enjoy life.
However, he adds, we also have an obligation to give back.
Lt. Col. Thomas Armas during his “Good Morning Staples” interview.
As a Rye native — growing up in an environment very similar to Westport — he “was given the best childhood a person could have.” He gave back what he could by joining the military. He tells Staples students they don’t have to do that — but they should find some way to contribute to their community and their country, using their time and talents to better the lives of others.
The Staples Media Lab’s 2012 Memorial Day video is vitally important. It’s well researched, loving produced and richly rewarding.
Dan, thanks for sharing stories about Westport’s Vietnam veterans. It is essential for younger generations to be reminded of the bravery and sacrifices of our own townspeople.
I have to share with you the sense of pride expressed by the Westport Boy Scouts who spent 4 hours yesterday distributing flags to the graves of veterans all over town.
The Scouts were proud to honor these brave men and women, whose sacrifices helped safeguard our nation and allow it to grow in prosperity and security.
Assumption Cemetery on Green’s Farms Road looks great, thanks to local Boy Scouts.
To me, it was an incredibly important reminder of how history comes alive for our young people, and how much they marvel at and appreciate the sacrifices of those who came before them. I thank the VFW and Scout leaders for giving them this opportunity.
Some newer Scouts were surprised to discover that such a large number of Westporters have served our country in the armed forces, and wondered how many untold stories could be shared with their generation. The boys also were impressed to see the physical resting sites of Wheelers and Sherwoods, and the founders of Staples and Bedford, whose contributions also resonate so strongly in their everyday lives.
We will visit the Westport Historical Society to find more information to answer their questions. And hopefully, when we march tomorrow morning, the boys will have the chance to talk with the veterans who, because of their service to our nation, are able to participate in the well-earned festivities.
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