George J Noakes, Part 7--The Battle of San Clemente and the Betty Grable Incident

This is a shot of my dad from his first year at Oregon State College (later Oregon State University) in Corvallis, Oregon. He was mustered out of the Marines just in time to get into college for the 1948--49 academic year. 

Two things I  didn't mention about his hitch in the Marines--one was "The Battle of San Clemente".  As my dad told it to me, two guys went AWOL and my dad, then a corporal,  and another military policeman, came across the deserters at a beach.  My dad and his partner were in the cliffs overlooking the beach.  The AWOL Marines were just above them on another cliff above the Pacific, and they weren't interested in surrendering.  At least one of the guys was armed with a handgun. "Come and get us, you b---ards!" was the tone of the wanted men.  It seemed the only way to capture these guys was by force, calling up a dozen or so other MPs and risk a big shootout.   

After some more fruitless negotiation, yelling back and forth over the noise of the waves pounding against the shore, another couple of MPs drove across the beach near where the mini-siege was taking place.  (They had been radioed not to get too close as the situation was serious.) 

Luckily the new MPs were driving a large jeep with a canopy over the back.  My dad and the other MP put their heads together and came up with a plan.  As the second jeep stopped, my dad's partner yelled out "C'mon you guys. Hurry up with the Fifty Cal! We ain't got all day to fool with these jokers!" 

"Fifty Cal" was slang in the service back then for a fifty-caliber machine gun.   The threat of that much firepower did the trick.   The two AWOL guys came down from their perch with their hands up. The bluff had worked and "The Battle of San Clemente" ended without any casualties. 

 I think my father liked to recount that incident now and then because he liked the idea  that, given a choice, it was better to outsmart your opponent then to rush in with guns (or fists) blazing.

There was also his encounter with Betty Grable. 

Betty Grable was probably the number one pin-up girl for American GI's in World War II.  Her legs were reportedly insured for a million dollars by her home film studio, 20th Century Fox. The war was of course over, but Betty still had a few years of popularity left.

My dad got a leave for a few days and he and a friend took off to Los Angeles for some site-seeing.  They went to see the "Weird Al" Yankovics of 1947, Spike Jones and his City Slickers, at their radio show at CBS, then stood outside a movie theater during a traditional Hollywood premiere.   I don't remember which movie it was, but my dad did mention that the girls in the crowd went crazy when Mickey Rooney arrived at the premiere.  The diminutive male star obliged the young ladies by kissing each one of them who were standing near the security ropes.  It's a wonder to me that my father didn't go straight into acting school after he was discharged after seeing such feminine attention bestowed on a rather ordinary-looking guy. 

At one of the southern California racetracks, my dad and his friend went to do some low stakes gambling on the ponies. As it happened, they spotted Miss Grable sitting in the VIP section of the Del Mar Racetrack, along with his then-husband, the bandleader Harry James. My dad told me he was too awestruck and shy by himself to have tried and get through to the posh part of the track seating and get Betty Grable's autograph.  But his fellow Marine talked him into going along with him so he could get her autograph.  (The thinking was that one Marine might be stopped by the security usher, but not two men serving their country would stand a better chance of appealing to Miss Grable's patriotism.)

It started out well.  The two intrepid Marines went to the usher and asked if he would ask Miss Grable (or Mrs James) if they could get an autograph.  My dad remembered Betty Grable turning around when the usher came over to her and asked her if she'd mind signing an autograph. . She had a huge smile on her face, my father recalled to me in wistful tones. She seemed friendly to men in uniform as she had all those guys she had met in the Hollywood Canteen or on military posts all over the country during the war.   She waved my father and his pal down to the box she and her hubby were in. It looked like my dad's friend  would get that autograph after all.  Heck, they might have got a picture with her, maybe a chaste kiss, perhaps an invite for a screen test with the film siren, heck, the sky was the limit.

And then...disaster.

After some quick small talk, Miss Grable was offered an autograph book to sign.  Unfortunately, my father's friends nerves got the better of him and he fumbled the autograph book at a critical moment.  As he tried to retrieve it in mid-air, he fumbled the hot dog and wrapper he was carrying in his other hand.  Said hot dog and bun stuffed with mustard fell right on Miss Grable blouse.  She let out a exclamation about the ruination of her silk top. Harry James, the gallant trombonist-husband, stood up and yelled.  The two servicemen beat a hasty retreat sans autograph and one hot dog.

Shortly after that incident, and despite his disgracing of the uniform by aiding and abetting in an unintentional act of  "lese majeste" against Hollywood's biggest female star, my father was honorably discharged.  He went back to Oregon and Corvallis to begin his college years.