Pt 2: A Complex Life of Family, Faith and Unending Love

The Story of Louis J. Corbo (my grandfather)

In part 1, Louis was born to Italian immigrants and was raised in an Italian language only home, making school, once he started, quite challenging. He ended up dropping out at age 15 and taking seasonal and odd jobs while completing a course in business writing presumably to pursue a career as a salesman or real-estate agent. 

Romance Amidst A World on Fire

As a 20-year-old man, Louis’ fluency in one of the most beautiful “romance” languages, as well as his thick, curly hair, big brown eyes and olive-colored skin no doubt instantly melted the hearts of young women, including the Irish gal he met in 1941 at a dance.

She wasn’t his first girlfriend, but she would soon become his one true love. They had differences: she was four years younger. She didn’t speak Italian. She was from Minneapolis. She was raised by a single mom whose primary source of income was welfare. But she was raised Catholic, as Louis had been, and she was full of life. She knew what she wanted and Louis wanted to be the one to give it to her. Her name was Vivian Mae Faircloth. He called her Viv from the start. He was charming, with his thick accent, broken English and natural smile. Some folks said he had the looks of someone who should have been in the movies. It probably helped that on the day they met, he was still wearing a rented tuxedo from the wedding he was in earlier in the day. That was in the Spring of 1941.

Louis and Vivian in 1941.

Louis recalls that for their first date he took her to Phalen Creek. This was a special place for Louis because when his father had immigrated alone to America in 1913, he first lived down by the creek among other Italians. The place was lush, the water was crisp, clear and refreshing (as long as you gathered it upstream.) Those that lived there in the early part of the century called the place “enchanted”: A protected hallow from the bustle of the city. Taking Vivian to this place as a first date suggests he was being vulnerable — showing her his roots, what they had in common as the children of poor parents. His father had once given him advice to “Not look for love. Give love and you will find love looking for you.” It seemed as if the advice was proving to be true. After that day, he would take the street car from St. Paul to Minneapolis to visit her as often as he could. Needless to say, both Louis and Vivian fell in love immediately. 

As 1941 was coming to a close, Vivian was just finishing the first half of her senior year of high school, likely bragging about her older handsome boyfriend to her classmates while doodling hearts on any scrap of paper she could find. Then on 7 December 1941 “Japanese planes spread death and terrific destruction in Honolulu and Pearl Harbor.” The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor struck fear in everyone across the nation, even those living in Minnesota — far away from Hawaii. Headlines screamed “U.S. DECLARES WAR ON JAPAN” and “3,000 Killed or Injured in Attack on Hawaii; 2 American Warships Sunk.” Amidst the panic, Vivian and Louis sought comfort together, like many other young couples. They were in love and now they were expecting a baby. They’d only known each other eight months. Vivian was still only 16. A war was looming. Though his heart was full of love, Louis’ words left a little to be desired when upon learning she was pregnant, he matter-of-factly said “I’ll marry you.” 

Vivian dropped out of school. Louis got a “real job” at the Northern Pacific Railroad as an apprentice carman, earning 38¢ an hour. A wedding license was filed 20 January 1942 and they married on Valentine’s Day in 1942 at Vivian’s church in Minneapolis.  

The next day, Louis registered for the draft, listing his new wife and his father as the person “who will always know your address” but noting his place of residence as Vivian’s mother’s home, where they did in fact live for a short time before they rented a furnished two-bedroom apartment in SE Minneapolis. It was at that first home only a few months into their marriage that Louis received his draft notice: “Dear Mr. Corbo: Uncle Sam wants you.”

Vivian and Louis on their wedding day 14 Feb 1942.

WWII draft registration card.

He packed up his pregnant wife and helped her move back into her mother’s house. He chose the Navy over the Army and headed to the Naval Training Station in Great Lakes, Illinois, arriving 15 August 1942. When Viv delivered the baby less than a month later, he received a telegram and proudly jotted on the inside cover of his Bluejackets Manual. He was granted an emergency 36-hour leave to see his son — David Louis Corbo. It would be nearly two years later before he would see him again. 

Proud jottings inside the Bluejackets manual. Louis in his Navy uniform. 1942.

Upon completing his training, he transferred to Norfolk, Virginia for deployment. It was there that he used a telephone for the very first time. “I never had a phone or use a phone until I when to the Navy. I call to tell her I was leaving for oversea. I call her from Norfolk, VA.” Louis was then shipped to the newly constructed Naval Operating Base in Trinidad aboard the USS Antaeus where he stayed until March of 1944.