Wall tells another side of war story
The “In Memoriam” monument listing Stamford’s war dead in Veterans Memorial Park has never told the whole story.
Tony Pavia can’t see me smile as he continues his “stream of consciousness” history lesson about the city’s exceptional contributions during wartime.
“Here’s something I just thought of, but I’m going to throw this at you. I’m seeing what sticks against the wall,” he says.
At heart, Pavia is a history teacher. He’s also a writer. In this case he’s not bothering to present history in the form of a lesson plan or as a linear narrative. He’s leaving that to me. Which makes me the wall.
I smile because he repeats the phrase a few times during our chat without ever acknowledging that the subject of this discourse is indeed a wall.
It’s an exceptional monolith, listing Stamford citizens who died in service to the nation. Pavia’s book, “An American Town Goes to War,” related the contribution the city made to the World War II effort, when about one in six residents served.
When the monument was dedicated in the downtown park in 1977, it listed the names of those who were killed in action in World War II, Korea and Vietnam. The only name added in all this time has been that of U.S. Navy SEAL Brian Bill, who was killed in Afghanistan in 2011.
The wall itself, though, starts late in Stamford’s story. Absent were names of Stamford residents who died in earlier conflicts.
Those names now adorn the back side of the wall. For anyone attending Sunday’s Memorial Day ceremonies, or just looking to honor the spirit of the holiday, it’s a fitting place for reflection.
It’s a reminder of Stamford’s considerable sacrifice during World War I, when about 10 percent of residents served. But painstaking research also added those who wore uniforms in the French and Indian War, the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Civil War, and the lone documented loss in the Spanish American War (Joseph F. Bunnell).
As we talk on the phone, Pavia estimates the list is now 500 names strong. I neglected to count when I visited it Thursday evening, but it’s time well spent to pause and consider the names.
The history teacher has done exactly that. He looks at the early entries and recognizes surnames of the city’s settlers, names such as Davenport and Scofield. Two families during the Revolutionary War lost two sons. A Civil War family lost three.
Pavia is throwing quickly at his wall now. It all sticks. The Revolutionary deaths were on legendary battlefields such as Saratoga and Yorktown.
“In the Civil War they died in every major campaign,” Pavia says. When he mentions Fort Wagner he notes it was the setting of the 1989 movie “Glory.” When he shifts to Gettysburg he says nothing more, because nothing more needs to be said.
Pavia also notes that many soldiers died in early campaigns not from artillery wounds, but from the consequences of diseases such as Yellow Fever and dysentery.
Then there’s the War of 1812. Connecticut’s legislature at the time voted not to join the campaign. Some Stamford residents signed up anyway.
As America grew up, so did Stamford. By World War II, the children of immigrants enlisted, some 200 finding their way to the wall. Stamford was still an industrial town, with the likes of Pitney Bowes and American Cyanimid putting many residents to work to help end the war. The 10,000 people who signed up in what was then a city of 60,000 includes a few thousand women.
“Stamford was absolutely in the center of the war effort,” says Pavia, whose career included stints as principal of Stamford, New Canaan and Trinity Catholic high schools.
Stamford residents on the front lines “died in every single major battle.”
Pavia’s voice lilts as he repeats that unfathomable history lesson. “Five killed at Iwo Jima. Six or seven at Okinawa. Guys killed in DDay ...”
Through Korea and Vietnam, Stamford’s military demographics continued to mirror that of the nation.
The city would not suffer another military death until Brian Bill’s four decades later. Much of the recent rehabilitation of Veterans Memorial Park is a credit to the leadership of Bill’s mother, Pat Parry. When the procession of
Stamford’s Memorial Day parade arrives Sunday at the park, the primary focus will be the dedication of a new Gold Star monument honoring residents who died in battle, and feature a unique gathering of family members.
That Gold Star monument was surrounded by scaffolding in recent days as engravers worked to finish it. But the names on the “In Memoriam” wall bearing the updated list was already visible.
The people who joined Pavia in doing the relentless (he calls it “weird”) research to find missing names are themselves worthy of being credited somewhere in stone.
Long before this wall, there was a “Service Roll” in what was then Stamford’s Central Park. It was vanquished in the 1970s by weather and urban renewal. Names handpainted on wooden placards were unceremoniously trashed. In the shadow of an unpopular war, the city scrapped its own history.
It’s a story Pavia has revisited often, but this time the idea sparks an original notion “that I’m going to throw at you.”
“One might argue the Stamford Advocate was the father of that park,” he posits. “It was the Advocate that sponsored the service roll.”
Aside from boosting community war drives and the like, the newspaper routinely documented the names of every soldier who enlisted. Recollecting names from newspaper archives and things such as pension records is an inexact science, so the wall is surely missing names.
“It’s not 100 percent accurate,” Pavia concedes, but it’s representative of the sacrifice Stamford made and of the changing face of the country.
“And it makes you proud of Stamford, it really does.”