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Editor’s note: The following story first appeared in The Way It Was, vol. II, a project of the Retired Senior Volunteer Project (RSVP), edited by Gayle B. Karshner Roscoe and published in 1980.

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What a strange combination of words the title of this story contains! Let me explain. During World War II, the meat business suffered much because of meat shortages, fewer butchers, inexperienced and older help and long hours. There were also meat stamps and black markets.

Due to the shortage of meat, one of the substitutes sold in Eureka markets was whale meat. At the Fields Landing Whaling Station, huge blocks of meat were cut from the mammoth whales that were brought into the dock. These chunks were the edible portions and weighed hundreds of pounds. The meat was a dark, blackish-red color and not too appetizing to look at. The butchers cut the chunks into steaks and stew meat and sold the product over the counter. A large portion was used for human consumption and some for animal. The meat was boneless and probably sold 39 cents a pound. The news of Eureka’s City Market selling whale meat reached the the editors of Life magazine, and a picture of my husband selling it to a customer was published. Later, two Eureka men who had been away in the service, one in Italy and the other in Africa, came home when the war was over and both reported to my husband that they had seen the article in Life, in their respective “war countries.” The whale news was big news and it really got around.

Now come the wienies. Up to this time, wienies were a popular and inexpensive item — so much so that butchers formed the habit of passing out wienies to the children who entered the market with their mother or father. However, when the war was on, and all meat except turkeys, fish and some types of sausages were rationed, even the common wienie became a limited item, not one to be given away. Today, with wienies anywhere from 20-30 cents a piece, there is no way they can be handed out free of charge. Times have changed.

There were other more serious problems during the war. My husband owned and operated the City Market, mentioned earlier. It was located on Fifth between E and F. Because many of the young men went away to war, older men and ladies were hired. So, because of limited and inexperienced help, the owner would often go to work as early as 4 or 5 a.m. He would cut up and display all the meat he had on hand for the day. As meat was rationed, he received his quota from big companies like Armour and Co. and Swift and Co. He worked behind closed doors until all the meat was ready, while eager customers formed a line outside that often extended down the street to Payless Drug Store on the corner of Fifth and F.

As soon as the doors opened, customers rushed in and bought all they could get with their meat stamps. Bacon and ham were on very short rations and were usually saved for regular customers. People were always scrounging for items not rationed and some folk visited every market in town to get all the meat they could.

There was a ceiling price on meat which had to be adhered to. But some shops paid a higher price, and in turn, sold it for more — sometimes with or without stamps. This was called the “black market.” And even though fines were imposed, the illegal practice continued all over the country. 

As we have noted, turkeys were plentiful, and were bought fresh, direct from ranches. They were delivered to the markets “New York dressed,” which means they were not drawn, not ready for the oven. The feathers were removed, but the head and feet remained intact. On holidays, the turkey business was a big chore. On Thanksgiving, in the year 1943, City Market bought a big shipment of turkeys. One evening, a few days before the big day, the men worked far into the night displaying the turkeys on large wooden racks. These racks extended the length of the building — approximately 50 feet. Imagine the weight of 500-700 turkeys on these long racks. But finally the task was finished, clean sawdust was raked underneath, and the butchers were ready to go home. And then it happened! Some sections broke, and beautiful, clean, dressed turkeys and fell to the sawdust below. There was nothing to do but pick them up, brush off the sawdust, repair the racks and re-hang. It took most of the night. Then home they went for an hour’s rest before opening up at 7 a.m. At best, butchers’ hours were not easy in those days.

Before the war, competition was keen, and people were very selective and hard to deal with. But during the war, it was a different story.

The story is told of one Eureka house- wife who had always complained about meat being too fat. One day, during the war, she entered the shop where she usually traded. Upon asking for a cer- tain roast in the meat case, her butcher replied, “Oh no, lady, that roast is much too fat for you.”

In the earlier days — 1937 and on — the J.C. Bull Company operated in Arcata. They bought livestock, slaughtered it, and sold to the markets. In Eureka, Langner and Kretner operated in Cut-ten, while the Russ Meat Company was popular in town. The average price of carcass beef was 5-6 cents per pound, dressed.

The old Langner and Kretner Market on Fifth and Myrtle sold meat for many years, next door to Johnson and Nelson’s Grocery Store. It was just a short walk through the alley from my home on Sixth Street where I grew up. Mother would send me to the market for 20 cents worth of hamburger, or 20-25 cents worth of round steak, sufficient for our family of six. Little did I know at that time that my future husband would someday be the owner of that market (having sold the City Market), and the supply of meat for our family of five would be most generous. Business continued in the ancient landmark market until the building was condemned and new quarters were constructed across the street in 1960.

Yes, there were good days and difficult days. During the war, we learned to appreciate many things we had taken for granted. The whale meat did not satisfy, wienies continue to be popular but expensive, while the possibility of another war may be in sight. We do well to count our blessings.

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The piece above was printed in the September-October 1993 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.