In Glocester, an old barn, with permission of the owner, was set ablaze as part of the celebration, with firemen standing by in case the party got too warm. Frank Vruzzi of 131 Armistice Blvd., Pawtucket, with three sons and a daughter enlisted in the armed services, paraded up and down Main Street, carrying a large American flag.Įven the smallest towns got into the act. Portuguese societies carrying American and Portuguese flags marched in makeshift parades. Even red flags of the communist Soviet Union were seen in Providence. Not only American flags, but flags of many Allied nations were flown, especially the British Union Jack and the tri-colors of France. Honking car horns and illegal fireworks were heard throughout the night.įlags were everywhere. Gasoline was being rationed, but drivers had filled their automobile gas tanks in anticipation of the surrender news. Often started by children, crowds paraded up and down main street banging tin pans, blowing horns and making all noise possible. Residents poured out of their homes shouting, laughing and singing. Fire sirens, mill whistles and church bells announced the surrender. While he was being carried around, the crowd broke out with “Ticonderoga” - the song written in honor of the proud aircraft carrier Kiefer had commanded when wounded.Įvery town in the state, from Westerly to Barrington, engaged in wild celebrations, with a similar train of events in each. Two brawny sailors immediately hoisted him up on their shoulders. “When we got over to where the flag was, I don’t think you ever felt as patriotic as you did when that flag came down.”Īt the WAVES lounge, jiving WAVES and enlisted men danced to the tune “Happy Days are Here Again.” Quonset Point’s commander, war hero Dixie Kiefer, his wrist still in a cast from battle injuries, dropped in at the lounge. The women marched to areas of the base that had been off limits until that moment. Providence firemen answered more than 130 alarms, most of them false.Īt Quonset Point Naval Air Station, the largest naval air station between New York City and Boston, and at the next-door headquarters of the Seabees at Davisville, the celebrations were immediate and intense.įorestdale native Nellie Moore Rollins, a WAVE stationed at Davisville, summed up a common feeling: “We felt we’d been released. Policemen, supported by busloads of navy shore patrolmen, attempted to maintain order. Young celebrants burned the playhouse at Garibaldi Playground and tried to do the same at Richardson Park. Vandals smashed windows in downtown stores and on trolley cars. Muggers assaulted some women, dragging them to the pavement for “sport.” Fights broke out when sailors tried to steal kisses from young women in front of their male companions. Later in the night, in some places in Providence, matters took a violent turn. Bonfires burned on Federal Hill, and in South Providence, Mount Pleasant and Fox Point. Ann’s Church off Branch Avenue was roped off for a block dance. Impromptu parades broke out everywhere, including one held by Brown University students marching up Thayer Street. Huge crowds gathered in other parts of the city too, including at Olneyville Square. Sailors and soldiers began kissing willing young women in jubilation.Ī patrolman, viewing the shouting throngs in front of City Hall, exclaimed, with a bit of exaggeration, “Times Square has nothing on this tonight!” An estimated 50,000 people filled downtown Providence, singing, dancing and shaking hands with strangers. 15 edition of The Providence Journal compared Providence’s festivities to a carnival. “I wanted to go where all the action was, on Main Street. “All the whistles were going, and the church bells,” she recently recalled. In Woonsocket, Jacqueline Gauthier, then 14, was at home on Paradis Avenue. Fifty years later, one of the boys, Phil Moran, recalled that it was “a day like no other.” In Pawtucket, a group of over a dozen boys decided to march in an impromptu parade with flags, drums and noisemakers. In East Providence and North Providence, and other communities, effigies of Japanese Emperor Hirohito and Prime Minister Tojo were hung from trees and poles along major roads. Now, on “Victory over Japan Day” - or “V-J Day,” as it was already called - after four years of the stress of war, everyone wanted to celebrate.įlags and bunting appeared throughout Cranston. The May 8 celebrations for V-E Day, when the Allies accepted Nazi Germany’s official surrender, had been muted, knowing that despite the victory in Europe, American soldiers and sailors were still fighting in the Pacific. What immediately followed throughout Rhode Island were the biggest celebrations the state has ever seen. Truman announced the unconditional surrender of Japan - and the end of World War II.
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