Ohio History Journal

ANDREW McILROY

No Interest, No Time, No Money: Civil

Defense in Cleveland in the Cold War

In recent years historians have shown that fear of the atomic bomb per-

vaded all aspects of American life in the early cold war era. Paul Boyer ar-

gued that "the ever-present reality of the bomb" was so great that it was

"built into the very structure of our minds, giving shape and meaning to all

our perceptions."    Magazines such as Life, Time, and Newsweek offered

evidence through a wealth of articles that the atomic bomb remained central

to the national consciousness. Fear of nuclear destruction spurred interest in

civil defense as a means to increase odds of survival in the event of war.

Although the federal government and atomic scientists proclaimed that civil

defense could save a substantial number of lives, this case study of the city of

Cleveland and Cuyahoga County suburbs reveals that the people of north-

eastern Ohio lacked interest in civil defense preparations, even though the

area was a primary target for nuclear attack.1

Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, county civil defense officials encouraged

public involvement in preparations for a nuclear attack by organizing air raid

drills, recruiting volunteers to help with disaster relief, and planning for sur-

Andrew Mcllroy is a M.S. candidate at the H. John Heinz III School of Public Policy and

Management, Carnegie Mellon University. This paper was written while he was a masters stu-

dent in American History at the University of Akron, where he worked closely with Dr. Walter

Hixson and Dr. Jerome Mushkat.

1. Paul Boyer, By tle Bomb's Early Light: American Thought and Culture (at the Dawn of the

Atomic Age (New York, 1985), xv, xviii, 15; Robert Karl Manoff, "The Media: Nuclear

Security vs. Democracy," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (hereafter BAS), 40 (January, 1984),

26-29. For more information on the culture of cold war America, and its relationship to the

bomb, see: Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New

York, 1988), especially chp. 4, "Explosive Issues: Sex, Women, and the Bomb," 92-113;

William L. O'Neill American High: The Years of Confidence, 1945-1960, (New York, 1986).

The film by The Archives Project, The Atomic Cafe, 1982 Thorn Emi Video, provides an enter-

taining depiction of civil defense efforts and the cultural impact of the bomb. Spencer R. Weart,

Nuclear Fear: A History of Images (Cambridge, Mass., 1988) might also prove interesting.

The federal offices responsible for civil defense and academics issued a multitude of pamphlets

explaining the need for civil defense and offering practical ways for everyone, from architects to

housewives, to get involved. A brief survey of books on the subject includes: Pat Frank, How to

Survive the H-Bomb, and Why (Philadelphia, 1962); Herman Kahn, Thinking About the

Unthinkable (New York, 1962); Thomas L Martin and Donald C. Latham, Strategy for Survival

(Tucson, 1963); Colonel Mel Mawrence with John Clark Kimball, You Can Survive the Bomb

(Chicago, 1961); Augustin M. Prentiss, Civil Defense in Modern War (New York, 1951); Eugene

P. Wigner, Survival and the Bomb; Methods of Civil Defense (Bloomington, 1969).

60                                                          OHIO HISTORY

vival through evacuation and shelters. Except for a few brief periods of

heightened international tensions, however, Cleveland failed to build a viable,

sustained civil defense program, primarily because of public apathy and bu-

reaucratic ineptitude. While America remained in the shadow of the bomb

throughout this period, the people of northeastern Ohio refused to prepare for

the possibility of nuclear war through civil defense. The multitude of other

activities which consumed their interest, as well as a vague sense that despite

what government administrators told them, there was nothing they could do

to prepare for or prevent an atomic disaster, undermined plans for civil de-

fense. The emphasis of this study is on the public reaction as recorded in two

local newspapers, the Cleveland Plain Dealer and the Cleveland Press, which

both shaped and reflected public opinion. The bureaucratic disputes and

contentious political debate that hampered civil defense efforts in Cuyahoga

County may have been unique to Cleveland, but the general lack of public re-

sponse to civil defense appears to have been common across the country.²

Calls for civil defense began soon after President Harry S. Truman an-

nounced on September 23, 1949, the explosion of the first Soviet atomic

weapon which prompted people to call for the development of a national plan

of civil defense. Cries for a comprehensive civil defense effort increased fol-

lowing the outbreak of the Korean War on June 24, 1950, which some feared

might be a prelude to a broader Soviet offensive. As the war in Korea turned

against the United States in late 1950, Congress quickly passed the Federal

Civil Defense Act of 1950, establishing the Federal Civil Defense

Administration (FCDA). The FCDA did not manage local civil defense ef-

forts or develop plans for defense of specific civilian populations, but rather

provided general supervision and inspiration.³

FCDA officials declared that Cuyahoga County was "perhaps the most crit-

ical area of the United States." As a major population and manufacturing

center, Cuyahoga County presented a primary target area for Russian attack.

2. Other local studies of civil defense include: Pamela A. Brown, "Constructing the Cultural

Curtain: The Meaning of Cold War in York, Pennsylvania Daily Newspapers, 1947-1962"

(Ph.D. diss., University of Iowa, 1983); James Marten, "Coping with the Cold War: Civil

Defense in Austin, Texas, 1961-61," East Texas Historical Journal, 26 (no. 1, 1988), 3-13;

Costia Nikitiuk, "Emergency and Organizational Legitimacy: The Dilemma of Emergency

Planning in British Columbia," BC Studies, 38 (Summer, 1978), 47-64; Marijan Salopek,

"Western Canadians and Civil Defense: The Korean War Years, 1950-1953," Prairie Forum, 14

(Spring, 1989), 75-88. All these studies describe grandiose plans for civil defense that produced

few substantive results. Gallup national surveys from throughout the period also indicate that

most of the population took few concrete steps to protect themselves or join a civil defense or-

ganization. See George Gallup, ed. The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1953-1971, 3 vols. (New

York, 1972), vol. II, 1162, 1230-1231, 1671, 1732, 1741, 1745.

3. Boyce Wayne Blanchard, "American Civil Defense 1945-1975: The Evolution of Programs

and Policies" (Ph.D. diss., University of Virginia, 1980), 36, 47-49; JoAnne Brown, "A is for

Atom, B is for Bomb; Civil Defense in American Public Education, 1948-1963," Journal of

American History, 75 (June, 1988), 69; Blanchard, "American Civil Defense," 48, 49.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                              61

Much of the nation's manufacturing depended on Cleveland, including jet

plane output, forgings of half the nation's output of magnesium and alu-

minum, and production of important submarine parts, as well as a third of all

auto and truck components. In addition, Cleveland was the world's largest

gray iron casting center and contained seventy-one "critical plants" for mili-

tary production. "Without the machine tools and other products of Cleveland

industry," the FCDA warned, "our entire capacity to wage modern war would

be crippled." Preparation was essential, for as the FCDA cautioned, a

Russian attack could come without warning.⁴

As the Korean War continued, political leaders in Cuyahoga County

worked to establish a civil defense organization. In December 1950,

Cleveland Mayor Thomas A. Burke and the county commissioners appointed

Ellsworth H. Augustus, a local businessman and civic leader, as the

Cuyahoga County Coordinator of Civil Defense. Although Augustus and his

staff had little experience with civil defense and limited guidance from the

federal government, the civil defense organization soon developed organiza-

tional plans for a county-wide program that called for "tens of thousands of

volunteers" to be "the county's defense troops." Augustus hoped to train one

member from each family in Cuyahoga County, or 375,000 people, in first

aid. Further volunteer opportunities included 30,000 to 40,000 air raid war-

dens, 5,000 police auxiliary officers, and 3,000 auxiliary firemen. Local

schools also participated in the civil defense program. In February 1951,

Cleveland school officials sent a letter to all parents describing the civil de-

fense efforts in schools. Some schools taught their students how to protect

themselves by ducking under their desks and covering their heads.⁵

On March 29, 1951, the city of Cleveland made its first major attempt to

recruit volunteers for the civil defense program. The registration day re-

ceived extensive coverage from the Plain Dealer and the Press, emphasizing

the insurance theme. The leaders wanted to enroll over 70,000 people, in-

cluding 40,000 air raid wardens, 15,000 auxiliary police, and 15,000 auxiliary

firemen, as well as volunteers in thirteen other categories such as fire watch-

ers, messengers, communications workers, drivers corps, demolition clear-

4. Cleveland Plain Dealer, February 12, 1951; "Table Showing Percentage Shares By

Subdivisions of Costs Allocated 50% by Population and 50% by Tax Duplicate in Cuyahoga

County," January 4, 1952, Civil Defense collection, Cuyahoga County Archives, Cleveland,

Ohio (hereafter Civil Defense collection); Cleveland Civil Defense Digest, July 1952, Cleveland

Documents Microfilm Project, reel 78, Cleveland Public Administration Library, Cleveland City

Hall, Cleveland, Ohio; Cleveland Press, Jan. 13, 1953.

5. Cleveland Plain Dealer, January 24, February 12, 1951. There seems to be little continuity

to the estimates given by civil defense leaders in Cleveland, and across the nation, on the number

of volunteers needed or the potential number of people that could be saved by an effective civil

defense program. This is undoubtedly due to the lack of a factual basis for defense and recovery

planning, and the relatively unknown destructive power of many atomic weapons on large civil-

ian populations, despite testing and the studies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In addition, support-

ers or opponents of civil defense tended to cite whatever statistics supported their argument.

62                                                  OHIO HISTORY

ance crews, and decontamination squads. Administrators predicted volun-

teers would one day number 375,000 people in Cuyahoga County. With the

aid of these volunteers, 100,000 people might be saved if an atomic bomb

dropped on Cleveland. In the first live united broadcast by all the Cleveland

radio and television stations, Cleveland's Mayor Burke encouraged all

Clevelanders to register for civil defense. The Press urged people to register

for the "preservation of our families, our homes, and our way of life," re-

minding them that while "other Americans are dying in Korea for the same

high goals, it is not too much to ask volunteers on the home front."⁶

Despite the intense press coverage and the pleas of Mayor Burke, Civil

Defense Day in Cleveland registered only 10,000 people. Augustus blamed

the "cloudy skies, general public apathy, and the turn of events in Korea in

our favor" for the low turnout. Some locations did not have enough volun-

teers, with applicants reporting only two of the four designated registrations

sites in Ward 17 open, while Ward 27's two locations had only one volunteer

each. The Press editors suggested it was hard to create interest in something

people "would rather not think about." But the Press urged Mayor Burke and

Augustus not to get discouraged, for this was "one job that not even apathy or

indifference at its worst can justify setting aside."⁷

Although the suburbs were a little ahead of Cleveland in the organizing

process, the suburban volunteer response was equally disappointing. The

suburb of Brooklyn estimated it required over 700 volunteers, but by March

1951, only thirty-five signed up and only ten remained faithful. The first aid

class which started with twenty dwindled to two people. The mayor, John M.

Coyne, bemoaned public apathy, complaining that "nobody cared" about the

weekly Thursday night civil defense movie and lecture, although the town

mailed nine circulars to all residents. The community of Lakewood reported

similar disappointing results. Lakewood issued a call for 3,000 volunteers,

but only 300 responded. Of the fifty that started Lakewood's air raid warden

class, twenty dropped the class before the end. The Cleveland Heights Civil

Defense Director tried to convince the people that civil defense was "here to

stay like death and taxes," but everyone ignored him. Webb Jennings,

Director of Civil Defense for Rocky River, commented, "a lot of people are

giving lip service to civil defense, but few are willing to work and take on re-

sponsibilities." Jennings identified the central problem that plagued national

as well as local civil defense efforts through the 1950s and 1960s.⁸

After only five months as county director, Augustus was prompted by the

the disappointing results to call for a new civil defense structure. Under the

6. Cleveland Plain Dealer, March 25, 1951; Cleveland Plain Dealer, March 29, 1951;

Cleveland Press, March 26, 28, 1951.

7. Ibid., March 30, 1951; Cleveland Press, March 30, 1951; Cleveland Plain Dealer, March

30, 1951.

8. Cleveland Press, March 12, 1951.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                     63

plan established in 1950. Augustus served as the coordinator for civil defense

plans in Cleveland and Cuyahoga County, including all the suburban munici-

palities. By April 1951, however, only five municipalities certified ordi-

nances to join the county-wide civil defense structure, thus retarding the de-

velopment of Cleveland's plan. Augustus warned "Cleveland could not wait.

It must get ready. What if a bomb were to drop next week? There is nobody

actually in authority yet." He recommended Cleveland abandon the county-

wide structure to form its own independent organization, under the direction

of a single, paid, full-time commander, with "lifelong experience in military

tactics and an unimpeachable record of achievement in the armed service of

the country." For Augustus, the imminent danger made it unwise for the city

to wait for the suburbs to join the civil defense program.⁹

On May 8, 1951, the City Council established a new office of civil defense

for the city of Cleveland. Because the United States "was not in an all-out

war," Mayor Burke declared, "civil defense is something which we may have

to provide for years. It may become a part of our way of life, and if this hap-

pens you have got to make it a function of governmental service." The mayor

speculated civil defense could go on indefinitely and would thus require full-

time, paid personnel. The Plain Dealer believed Cleveland was the first city

to make civil defense a governmental function.l0

To head this new organization, Mayor Burke appointed a social worker

with little military experience, John J. Pokorny, as the first paid, full-time

Director of Civil Defense. Despite his apparent lack of suitable preparation,

he launched into improving Cleveland's civil defense plan. He recognized

the challenges ahead with the admission that directors across the country all

reported general apathy. Pokorny's honeymoon as director lasted a relatively

short period before he fell under sharp media criticism for failing to accom-

plish anything. In November 1951, the Press headline declared: "city civil

defense moving at a crawl." The Press warned, "with the Korean conflict in

its 18th month and the international situation more taunt than ever, Cleveland

still lacks a really effective civil defense organization." Pokorny acknowl-

edged the program was "so far behind that it was still largely a matter of pa-

per planning." His office offered only a few basic first aid classes and none

in other areas. Only 7,000 Clevelanders were trained in first aid, of the esti-

mated 300,000 people who would be needed in the event of a nuclear attack.

The need for preparation was clear, because the Russian attack could come at

any minute according to the Press. Despite this danger, the public seemed

uninterested and the Cleveland Civil Defense Office unprepared.11

9. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 8, 1951; Cleveland Press, April 10, 1951,

10. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 13, 25, May 2, 8, 195.

11. [bid., November 29, 1951; Cleveland Press, June 9, 1951; Cleveland Plain Dealer, July 3,

1951; Cleveland Press, August 5, November 25, 28, 29, 1951.

64                                                 OHIO HISTORY

Not only did Pokorny face public apathy, bureaucratic infighting also ham-

pered his progress. As a result of the "balkanized political character of

Cuyahoga County," he remained unsure of the territorial and political limits

of his power. The county lacked a unified civil defense organization, but the

state and federal governments assumed Cleveland held responsibility for the

whole county. Cleveland's office received the area's entire allotment of civil

defense material which "issued forth in profusion from state and federal

sources." The FCDA expected Pokorny to distribute this material as well as

coordinate matching grants, since it did not want to deal with more than fifty-

seven separate municipalities. The "hodge-podge of plans and multiple au-

thority" also hampered the Cleveland Academy of Medicine, charged with

coordinating the county plan for medical services in the event of an attack.

The Ohio law, which prevented a "single top authority over the entire

county," created intolerable "bottlenecks," thus delaying the installation of

important emergency hospitals and first aid stations in the surrounding sub-

urbs. 12

The squabbling, recalcitrant suburbs refused to take full responsibility for

civil defense or work with the city to build an effective system. "These fool-

ish suburbs," the chairman of the Medicine Academy's disaster and relief

committee grumbled, "feel they can isolate themselves from the rest of the

county in atom bomb defense. They are preparing on the basis of their own

boundary lines and feel secure they have done a good job." Some suburbs

"were indifferent to the broader aspects of atom bomb defense, failing to rec-

ognize the interdependence of communities in an atom bomb disaster."

Suburban leaders felt no pressure from their constituents to respond with

vigor to civil defense. 13

The dearth of volunteers compounded the problems created by the lack of

county-wide coordination. Pokorny proudly pointed to the "voluminous mass

of planning done by the Cleveland civil defense organization," but conceded

these efforts would do little good in the event of a disaster without a cadre of

properly trained volunteers. The 2,200 people signed up to be auxiliary po-

lice officers seemed a positive sign, but only 400 completed the training pro-

gram. The list of auxiliary firemen included 200 names, but the city needed

5,000. Cleveland would require a total of approximately 93,000 volunteers to

assist the police, firemen, and utility and transportation workers. Pokorny

predicted that civil defense would be with Cleveland for a long time, but the

Press noted the absence of any sense of urgency. Colonel Mack Garr,

Director of Training for Cleveland Civil Defense, described the central prob-

lem: "People aren't badly scared enough to volunteer. And a lot of those

12. Ibid., November 29, 1951; Cleveland News, November 28, 1951.

13. Ibid., November 28, 1951.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                       65

who do volunteer back out when they're asked to give it some time."14

As 1951 drew to a close, the confusion created by the competing civil de-

fense organizations of each community became increasing apparent. In

December, the Press editors decried the suburb's efforts "to protect their own

interests," which prevented any form of county-wide coordination. Cuyahoga

was the only county in Ohio in 1951 that did not have a county civil defense

director. In the event of a real disaster, the conflicting plans of each commu-

nity would create a "tragic snarl." In December county leaders finally met to

develop plans for a new civil defense organization that would coordinate ef-

forts for the entire county, led by a county civil defense coordinator who

would command resources throughout the county and also develop plans for

joint programs, such as stockpiling medical supplies and building a county-

wide warning system.¹⁵

To its creators, the new structure represented a vast improvement over the

old disjointed system of civil defense. Each community paid an assessment

based upon its population and tax base to support the new county organiza-

tion, but many suburbs balked at contributing their share. Some towns, like

Bay Village, hesitated to sign the accord because they feared they would have

no control over how their money was spent. Other cities, such as Parma, ob-

jected because they had no money to pay for more important things, let alone

civil defense. By February 1952, however, the county commissioners for-

mally established the Cuyahoga County Office of Civil Defense when

Cleveland and thirty-two other municipalities, out of a total of fifty-seven,

signed agreements for mutual civil defense. The new members complained

that those communities that did not pay got "a free ride," enjoying all the

benefits of the county program such as air raid sirens, while paying none of

the costs. Evidently, the other communities saw little need for civil defense.

Pokorny, appointed county coordinator while retaining his position as

Director of Civil Defense for Cleveland, developed new county-wide plans

quickly, announcing by the end of March 1952 that the program was "really

rolling," and now "they were ready to concentrate on rounding up man

power." 16

Pokorny made some progress in his new position as county coordinator, as

the Press editorialized at the end of May 1952: "quietly, slowly, perhaps,

Greater Cleveland is making some important gains in building its civil de-

fense organization." The Press applauded the active core organization in the

five civil defense zones; the disaster plans worked out by the utilities; the

14. Cleveland Press, November 29, 1951.

15.  Ibid., December 7, 11, 1951; Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 6, 11, 17, 22, 1951:

Cleveland Press,  December 6, 15, 1951.

16. Ibid., February 9, 1952; Cleveland Plain Dealer, February 17, 1952; "Year End Report,"

Cleveland and Cuyahoga County Civil Defense Digest [1952]; Cleveland Press, February, 22,

1952; Cleveland Plain Dealer, March 30, 1952.

66                                                   OHIO HISTORY

training programs being developed; the efforts to dog-tag 250,000 school

children (to help with identification after a bomb blast); and the final ar-

rangements for purchasing air raid warning sirens. But the program still

lacked the volunteers needed to implement many of the plans. All the

progress was at the executive level. 17

Recognizing the need for civilian participation, Pokorny assigned ten po-

licemen to recruit volunteers in the summer of 1952. As the officers strug-

gled to find people willing to join the effort, they discovered "potential air

raid wardens prefer watering their gardens, mowing their lawns, or playing

with their children . . . to sitting in a stuffy hall learning about first aid."

Some people seemed interested in their presentations on the need for civil de-

fense, but they tended to forget everything when they went home. According

to the policemen, the publicity about the destruction caused by the atomic

bombs dropped on Japan led Clevelanders to assume there was nothing they

could do to protect themselves from a nuclear attack. Others questioned how

real the threat could be if the government allowed a steel strike, which threat-

ened defense production, to continue.¹⁸

Other recruiters for civil defense programs also found it hard to attract vol-

unteers. In December 1952 an American bomber made several mock attacks

on Cleveland without attracting attention. The mock bombardment even es-

caped the notice of the Skywatch program, a civilian aerial alert group which

lacked enough members to staff its lookout posts. In fact, none of the eight

lookout posts in Cuyahoga County operated around the clock, as the Air

Force requested, and two were completely inoperative. Even this low state of

preparedness marked a decline in public participation from the summer

months when two posts operated on a twenty-four hour schedule.¹⁹

Obviously discouraged by the lack of public interest, the county office

abandoned its fruitless efforts to recruit a corps of independent disaster relief

volunteers. On February 26, 1953, Pokorny announced that the Red Cross

would assume responsibility for feeding, housing, clothing, and evacuating

the people of Cuyahoga Country in the event of a disaster. The Press praised

this as a "sensible new approach to a problem that has been hopelessly mired

in a bog of public apathy and administrative red tape." Although the civil de-

fense leaders failed to attract many recruits, they hoped the Red Cross, which

had a history of working with volunteers, might do better.20

Even a dramatic demonstration of atomic power such as the widely publi-

cized atomic bomb test in Nevada in March 1953, specifically intended to

"blast away public apathy," failed to generate any new concern. The test in-

17. Cleveland Press, May 26, 1952.

18. Cleveland Plain Dealer, July 2, 1952.

19. Cleveland Press, December 15, 1952; "Year End Report," Cleveland and Cuyahoga

Country Civil Defense Digest [1952].

20. Cleveland Press, February 26, 1953.

68                                                         OHIO HISTORY

far away." Pokorny questioned "just what would it take to awaken the pub-

lic? We hope they never have to be awakened by an actual attack because if

they are, they will find themselves totally unprepared to save even their own

lives, much less those of their families and neighbors." His assessment

seemed quite accurate.²¹

Civil defense in Cleveland appeared to gain a measure of respect after the

summer tornadoes in June 1953 proved "that a sound civil defense program is

just as essential in peacetime as in war." While the auxiliary police and other

members of the civil defense team responded quickly and provided valuable

assistance, the lack of coordination between city and suburban units revealed

ongoing problems. Pundits predicted it would take a disaster before people

cared about civil defense, but few people volunteered to help after the

tornado swept through the area. Pokorny sadly reported "only 200 persons

have volunteered to join the CD organization since last week's tornado." The

lack of public interest was not unique to Cleveland; a Gallup poll, taken in

July, 1953, reported that only four percent of people surveyed nationally were

doing any work in a civil defense program.²²

The editors of the Press praised the county's civil defense efforts in its

1953 year-end editorial, drawing attention to the fact that they had "made

some headway, despite frustrations." The editors commended the organiza-

tion for its progress to date, pointing out the response to the tornado as one

example. But they also reminded Cleveland of the program's central prob-

lem: civil defense had "never aroused much popular enthusiasm and recruit-

ing the thousands of folks that must be trained has long been a prime frustra-

tion."²³

The lack of support from the suburbs also compelled Cleveland's mayor,

Anthony J. Celebreze, to lash out against those who refused to recognize the

danger of a possible attack. "It is extremely unfair of some of these munici-

palities to keep out of the civil defense program. ... If they do not show in-

terest in the program, how can they expect the rest of the county to,"

Celebreze declared. Twenty-five of fifty-seven suburbs refused to pay their

portion of the county civil defense costs or join the coordinating agreement,

attesting to public disinterest in civil defense.²⁴

A dramatic shift in civil defense program emerged in 1954 as America be-

21. Ibid., March 18, 20, 1953; Cuyahoga Civil Defense Digest, [March 1953 ?]. For the rela-

tionship between television, the cold war, and the bomb, see Stephen J. Whitfield, The Culture of

the Cold War, (Baltimore, 1991), especially chapter 7, "Boxed-in: Television and the Press," p.

153-78. Whitfield suggests the army encouraged television broadcasts to "reassure viewers of

American nuclear superiority" (p. 154).

22. Cuyahoga County Civil Defense Digest [June 1953 ?]; Cleveland Press, June 16, 1953;

George Gallup, ed. The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935-1971, 3 vols. (New York, 1972), vol.

II, 1162.

23. Cleveland Press, December 21, 1953.

24. Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 9, 1953.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                     69

came aware of the destructive power of the new hydrogen bomb. On March

31, 1954, Lewis Strauss, the chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission,

shocked the nation when he announced that the hydrogen bomb could be

made "large enough ... to destroy a city," even the metropolitan area of New

York. Due to the "recent disclosure of the tremendous wallop of the new H-

bomb" and the danger of fallout, Pokorny announced a change in Cleveland's

defense plans to a new emphasis on individual preparedness. Pokorny en-

couraged each family to stock canned goods and medical supplies, take

courses in first aid, and learn how to assist their neighbor in the event of a

disaster. He hoped that "the lifting of the secrecy veil which previously

shrouded H-bomb details would result in increased interest and participation

in the civil defense program." Cleveland's office broadened its educational

program in an effort to warn more people of the increased danger.

Emphasizing speed and self protection, the staff distributed "thousands of

pieces of literature, talked to countless civic and social groups, and appeared

on radio and TV." The success of all plans depended on volunteers to fight

fires, direct traffic, help with first aid, and begin the rebuilding process. But

even the vastly increased threat generated only a small portion of the volun-

teers civil defense officials estimated it would take to save Cuyahoga

County.²⁵

The increased power of the H-bomb multiplied the planning difficulties for

civil defense. While an atomic bomb might damage a limited area of three to

four miles, a hydrogen bomb blast area would cover a twenty-two mile ra-

dius. According to new estimates, if the Soviets dropped an H-bomb on

downtown Cleveland, it would kill 639,100 and wound 255,700 more. These

figures compared with 136,850 deaths and 78,650 wounded from an atomic

bomb attack. Thus, with the advent of the hydrogen bomb, civil defense

planners needed to prepare for more than three times as many homeless peo-

ple and casualties. The FCDA estimated Cuyahoga County needed 203,980

trained workers to ensure the county's survival.  Pokorny estimated the

county had only 88,000 people prepared to help, and this included 60,000

"involuntary volunteers," such as police officers, firemen, and utility workers,

who were considered part of the civil defense plan as part of their occupa-

tions. Only a few volunteers were trained and ready to meet the needs of a

possible attack: 61,995 air raid wardens required, 1,700 actually trained;

8,973 auxiliary police needed, 2,600 actually trained; 6,509 auxiliary firemen

needed, 500 actually trained. The new requirements for volunteers contrasted

to the actual number of people registered reveals the high degree of public

apathy in Cleveland. A graphic demonstration of the power of the hydrogen

25. Robert A. Divine, Blowing on the Wind: The Nuclear Test Ban Debate, 1954-1960 (New

York, 1978), 8, 13; Allan Winkler, "A 40-Year History of Civil Defense," BAS (June-July,

1984), 16, 18; Cleveland Press, April 2, 1954; Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 7, 1954.

70                                                   OHIO HISTORY

bomb carried on television in June 1954 generated many phone calls to the

civil defense headquarters, but few new recruits. After four years of fum-

bling Cleveland still lacked an adequate civil defense organization.²⁶

The destructiveness of the hydrogen bomb demanded Cuyahoga County

expand its disaster plans. With the hydrogen bomb "the alternatives are to

dig, die, or get out; and certainly we don't want to die," as Val Peterson, the

Federal Civil Defense Administrator, declared. Digging seemed far too ex-

pensive, so the FCDA recommended evacuation. In early March 1955 the

state director of civil defense ordered county defense leaders to develop plans

for total evacuation. Previously, officials planned only for residents in the

limited target area to withdraw to the nearby suburbs. But the power of the

hydrogen bomb made it necessary that everyone in a twenty-mile radius from

downtown, almost 1,500,000 people, flee the area as quickly as possible.²⁷

In the mid-1950s, the county office began to prepare the complex plans for

county-wide evacuation. But these plans remained only paper suggestions.

Even with the increased danger of the hydrogen bomb, civil defense never

generated the public enthusiasm needed to make these plans feasible.

Pokorny could not gain the endorsement of political leaders to stage a full-

scale practice run of his defense plans. One study of public attitudes toward

nuclear issues suggests the declining interest in nuclear concerns, after the

initial dismay over the hydrogen bomb, can be attributed to the slight thaw in

the cold war in response to the "Spirit of Geneva," the hopeful atmosphere

that followed President Dwight Eisenhower's conference with Soviet Premier

Nikita Khrushchev in July 1955. In addition, lack of public interest might

also be tied to Eisenhower's "Atoms for Peace" plan, offered at the UN on

December 8, 1954. Although rejected by the Russians, Eisenhower's

"Atoms for Peace" and "Open Skies" proposals functioned as effective pubic

relations measures, generating "widespread praise," thereby possibly assuag-

ing the fears of the public and the perceived need for civil defense, while

creating the image that the United States was working for peace.²⁸

Preparations for the third national civil defense exercise scheduled for June

15, 1955, revealed the public, as well as civic leaders, remained disinterested

in civil defense. The FCDA recommended that this exercise emphasize com-

plete evacuation. But leaders in Cleveland immediately ruled out a full-scale

evacuation, instead considering only a plan that asked residents to prepare to

evacuate, but not actually go anyplace. Pokorny initially proposed that

26. Cleveland Press, May 3, 1954; Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 7, 1954.

27. Herb Roback, "Civil Defense and National Defense," in Who Speaks for Civil Defense?,

ed. Eugene P. Wigner (New York, 1968), 89; Cleveland Press, March 3, 1955.

28. Rob Paarlberg, "Forgetting About the Unthinkable," Foreign Policy, 10 (Spring, 1973),

134; Divine, Blowing on the Wind, 62-63; James E. Dougherty and Robert L. Pfaltzgraff, Jr.,

American Foreign Policy: FDR to Reagan, (New York, 1986), 103; Divine Blowing on the

Wind, 25-26.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                           71

housewives load their cars and gather the children, while industry and office

workers would file into parking lots to prepare to flee to the countryside. On

May 25, however, Pokorny canceled all requests for public participation, cit-

ing the lack of a full-scale evacuation plan and the mass confusion that would

result from even a limited evacuation trial. Pokorny appeared unwilling to

take the painful step of forcing the public to make a conscious physical com-

mitment to civil defense by staging a full-scale evacuation, the only way he

could gain the knowledge needed to test his evacuation plan.²⁹

The national air raid drill occurred as scheduled on June 15, 1955, with

Eisenhower setting an example by moving to a secret location outside

Washington. But Cleveland marked the test with only a short siren call

which "hardly disturbed the city's life," while the civil defense staff carried

out another complex paper test. Following the lead of the county's mayors,

the public ignored the warning. Pokorny admitted that the preliminary evac-

uation plan was essentially a meaningless paper proposal. The plan could

only recommend that everyone run away. It could not tell them where they

would go, who would help them, or how they would be fed, clothed, and

housed. Ironically, at the end of the national exercise, Pokorny called for a

"realistic evacuation drill as soon as possible."³⁰

Pokorny blamed the FCDA for its failure to provide direction to the local

civil defense organizations. The current advice the government offered

amounted to, in Pokorny's words, "run away if you want to survive." The

FCDA and other bureaucrats in Washington confused the public with con-

flicting statements on the danger of the H-bomb while calling for military

budget cuts. This was one of the prime reasons for public apathy, according

to Pokorny, who encouraged the FCDA to "take a definite stand on Civil

Defense if it expects the public to take defense seriously."³¹

While Pokorny was undoubtedly correct about the need for more specific

guidance, he seemed unwilling to take even small steps to address this prob-

lem. Val Peterson, the FCDA Director, noted that Cleveland's largest evacu-

ation attempt moved only 1,500 people. If flight was the only way to save the

population, then Cleveland "should at least start somewhere," Peterson sug-

gested. Other cities mounted large evacuation drills, such as Philadelphia,

which moved 30,000 people from the downtown area in less than twenty

29. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 3, 7, 1955; Cleveland Press, May 14, 1955: Cleveland

Plain Dealer, May 25, 1955.

30. "Civil Defense: So Much to Be Done," Newsweek 45 (June 27, 1955), 21; Winkler, "40-

Year History of Civil Defense," 18; Cleveland Press, June 15, 16, 1955. The June 27, 1955,

Newsweek article also notes that other cities failed to generate any public enthusiasm for the ex-

ercise. A civil defense official in Peoria, Illinois, stated: "I just can't see a lot of people running

around with armbands on." A Washington, D.C., civil defense worker declared the whole civil

defense test "a fiasco . . .  so inadequate it couldn't cope with a brush fire threatening a doghouse

in the backyard." Newsweek reported he was fired from his civil defense job.

31. Cleveland Press, May, 25, 1955; Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 25, 1955.

72                                                    OHIO HISTORY

minutes, so there was no reason for Cleveland not to try. But Pokorny made

no such attempts.³²

The county continued its disaster planning through the second half of the

1950s with a series of programs designed to train volunteers and alert the

public to the continued need for civil defense. Arrows along designated

highways indicated the direction traffic should flow in an emergency.

"Operation Big Feed" demonstrated how the civil defense office intended to

feed up to 5,000 people in an emergency, complete with baked beans flown in

from Boston. Housewives learned how to decontaminate fruit and vegetables

by washing and peeling them and then testing them with a Geiger counter.

The county staged a parade through downtown and the suburbs to generate

public excitement.³³

Despite the continued activities and visibility of the civil defense organiza-

tion, administrators remained disappointed with volunteer participation. The

county leaders scheduled a "semi-surprise test mobilization of all Civil

Defense personnel" on January 29, 1956, to "determine how many Civil

Defense volunteers and others, charged with the responsibility of the safety of

the public, could be mobilized, without prior notice as to the exact day and

time of the test."  Upon completion, Pokorny labeled the exercise a

"remarkable demonstration," but sadly noted that only about half of the vol-

unteers registered to assist in a disaster arrived to help. Approximately

19,364 volunteers responded, but about half of this number included police,

fire, utility and medical workers already on duty, Pokorny also expressed

disappointment that only twenty-eight suburbs participated in the exercise.³⁴

For the 1957 national civil defense drill, Operation Alert '57, Pokorny and

his staff asked county residents to prepare to evacuate the city. During the

thirty-minute test, all businesses were to suspend operations while employees

"went through the motions of preparing to escape" by sitting in their cars.

Downtown office workers would stand on the street for half an hour, while

housewives in the suburbs would gather the children and load the car to de-

part. If the husband had the only car, then women should plan a way out of

town on public transportation or with a friend. The plan did not call for any-

one to actually leave the city, Planners asked only a token number of fami-

lies, 100, to evacuate completely. Evidently, civil defense workers were still

unprepared for anything more drastic. Schools apparently did not participate

in this drill, although they did stage their own escape exercise in September

when more than 200,000 children marched into the streets and playgrounds in

32. News, March 10, 1955.

33. Cleveland Press, October 26, 1955; May 30, 1956; March 7, 1956; September 12, 13,

1957; Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 16, 1957.

34. Cuyahoga County Civil Defense Digest, [January 1956?]; Cleveland Press, January 17, 22,

30, 1956; Cleveland Plain Dealer, January 30, 1956; "Mayors Advisory Committee on Civil

Defense, minutes from January 20, 1956," Civil Defense collection

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                        73

preparation for transportation outside the danger area.³⁵

The public showed little interest in even this minimal level of participation.

Only a few days before the test, fewer than one percent of the county's popu-

lation indicated they planned to take part. The Building Owners and

Managers Association, representing most of the large office buildings, ad-

vised their members to take only five minutes after the alarm sounded to ac-

quaint tenants with their disaster plans. Only a few buildings actually

planned to evacuate. Pokorny's 1,700 letters asking companies to participate

in the exercise generated less than 100 responses. Of all the major industries

in the area, only the Aluminum Company of America planned to cooperate

fully in the test. Although the rest of the city could not give up half an hour

to learn how to save themselves, government workers apparently had plenty

of time to spare, as they "joshed and joked" on their way out of the building.

Most people walking on the downtown streets greeted the sirens with a "ho

hum" and went about their business as usual. In the suburbs, some mothers

called to complain that the sirens woke their babies.³⁶

Pokorny did not suffer the embarrassment of public apathy again in the

1958 Operation Alert, as he had in the 1957 exercise. Ohio held its primary

election the day of the national drill, so he did not ask for public participation.

The civil defense staff, however, faithfully simulated an attack by interconti-

nental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) and then proceeded to solve all the prob-

lems-on paper of course.     According to Pokorny's official report,

"evacuation of Cuyahoga County proceeded according to plan without any

major simulated difficulties," which saved an estimated 1,000,000 people, al-

though an estimated 185,000 simulated people refused to evacuate, thus

adding to the death toll of 32,000. The evaluation noted that "sufficient num-

ber of trained personnel were not available for most services." The national

hysteria which resulted from the Soviet launch of Sputnik in October 1957

added no sense of urgency to Cuyahoga's civil defense program. Nor is there

any indication that the advent of ICBMs, with an increased destructive poten-

tial and a high degree of inaccuracy which placed the entire county at risk,

created any feeling of exigency.³⁷

Cuyahoga County held its own county-wide exercise on December 5, 1958,

as part of Operation Alert, Ohio, 1958. The majority of participants were

Cleveland city schoolchildren, who were directed to prepare for evacuation,

but only if the weather was nice. If the weather was poor, they should pro-

ceed to shelter areas. Disaster plans still were not advanced far enough to

35. Cleveland Press, June 18, 19, 1957; Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 30, 1957; Cleveland

Press, September 19, 1957.

36. Cleveland Press, Ibid., July 8, 10, 12, 1957; Cleveland Plain Dealer, July 13, 1957.

37. Cleveland Press, May 5, 1958; "OPAL '58," Cuyahoga County Civil Defense Digest; See

also Divine, Blowing on the Wind, 169-71, for a detailed description of American reaction to

Sputnik on the federal level; Cleveland Plain Dealer, January 12, 1957.

74                                                     OHIO HISTORY

arrange transportation for the children. Other than the schoolchildren, few

people joined the activities. Only about 10 percent of the industries and

stores encouraged to participate bothered to respond to the invitation. The

Press reported "few people paid particular attention" as the "wail of air raid

warning sirens today briefly reminded Christmas shopping crowds that this is

an age of atomic peril." Although 1958 witnessed an increase in the cold war

tension level, with American Marines landing in Lebanon, renewed shelling

of the Chinese Nationalist islands of Quemoy and Matsu in August, and

Khrushchev's November ultimatum to force concessions on the Berlin ques-

tion, holiday shoppers seemed to pay little regard to the atomic clouds which

hung over their heads.³⁸

By the end of the 1950s civil defense leaders apparently resigned them-

selves to public apathy. They only took part in a limited manner in national

civil defense exercises, and did not ask for any public participation in subse-

quent civil defense drills. On April 12, 1959, Cleveland limited its participa-

tion in the national civil defense drill to a test of the Conelrad alert system, a

national civil defense warning network utilizing local radio stations. The

general public, it appears, remained content to continue its daily life with lit-

tle notice of the civil defense activities planned to save their lives.³⁹

By the end of the 1950s, Political leaders also seemed ready to dismiss civil

defense as a useless effort.  Anthony Pecyk, an independent minded

Democrat on Cleveland City Council, led the charge against civil defense in

Cuyahoga County. In March 1959 he proclaimed civil defense was "obsolete

and had outlived its usefulness. It affords no real protection to the people,

and therefore no money should be spent on it." When other council members

contended that at least civil defense had some psychological value, Pecyk

replied:

I know shelters are out of the economic reach of local government. But ... a shelter

in each ward would be far better psychologically than the paper work we're getting

out of civil defense today.... I certainly don't want to be around here when a bomb

drops-when an angry mob points a finger at the politicians and says: 'You told me I

had protection which I didn't have.

Others from Cleveland shared Pecyk's doubts about civil defense. Senator

Stephen Young, Cleveland Democrat, attacked civil defense in the Senate.

The Press praised his efforts to stop a "lethargic bureaucracy that is already

obsolete in its attitude toward, and management of, our civil defense pre-

paredness." These popular politicians undoubtedly spoke for at least some of

38. Cleveland Press, November 19, December 2, 1958; Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 3,

1958; Cleveland Press, December 5, 1958; Divine, Blowing on the Wind, 241-42; Dougherty,

American Foreign Policy, 112, 122.

39. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 18, 1959.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                         75

their constituents when they expressed doubts about the usefulness of civil

defense.⁴⁰

The end of the 1950s marked one of the lowest levels of public support for

civil defense efforts. While the public never embraced civil defense in

Cuyahoga County, the local leaders could always count on the newspapers to

share in the disappointment of meager public response and encourage the

people to do better next time. But by late 1959 even the Press criticized the

local organization. For several years, Pokorny complained, the staff and vol-

unteers lacked appropriate attire for civil defense exercises and natural disas-

ters. Only a few lucky people had helmets, and no one had raincoats. After

much debate, the county finally decided to purchase the appropriate equip-

ment. The Press mocked the organization, implying that they had little ac-

tually to do:

It somehow deeply stirs the imagination to learn that the county's Civil Defense offi-

cials have met, pondered, weighed, considered and then bought themselves raincoats

and boots. It's not that the new apparel, apparently what every CD chieftain should

sport, cost so much .... Total cost for the 108 rigs was but a droplet as against the

county CD's splashy $250,000 yearly budget. Now these raincoats can be closeted

with the CD officials' little flags that go on their cars, and with the helmets that some

of them are fortunate enough to possess. Possibly there will be enough left in the

budget at the end of the year to hold a banquet at which the boys can sit around in

their new, colorful costumes. And then they can go home and hang them in their

closets again.⁴¹

In December 1959, on the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, se-

lected to remind people of the danger of unexpected attack, the nation ob-

served National Civil Defense Day '59. The National Civil Defense Director,

Leo A. Hoegh, asked Cleveland and other target cities to hold county-wide

drills, but the city marked the day with a token test of the air raid sirens,

"only a toot on the tooter," as the Press called it. County officials decided the

people were in "no mood for such silliness." The Press argued a full-scale

drill "would be utterly useless and a waste of money. About all it would ac-

complish would be to emphasize again how confusing and ineffective the

civil defense set-up actually is."⁴²

In addition to general public apathy, the civil defense program lacked a co-

herent plan. The national office, believing ICBMs would allow no time for

evacuation and fearing the threat of fallout, recommended that all families

build their own fallout shelters. For National Civil Defense Day '59,

Pokorny announced the distribution of brochures explaining how to build

personal shelters. But Pokorny admitted he had no shelter at his home, and

40. Ibid., March 7, 1959; Cleveland Press, July 11, 25, 1959.

41. Ibid., November 13, 1959.

42. Ibid., December 2, 1959.

76                                                   OHIO HISTORY

no plans to build one. He reminded people the official plan for civil defense

in Cleveland called for everyone to evacuate. The editors of the Press con-

sidered the whole question moot, believing there would be no time to run or

to hide. The only useful purpose civil defense served was for organizing a

few volunteers to help in responding to natural disasters, the Press pro-

nounced.⁴³

While the public and the Cleveland papers seemed to have no support for

civil defense, nuclear weapons remained an important part of the public dis-

course because of the rising concern over radioactive fallout. On the Beach, a

best selling book (1957) and later movie, and a 1959 article in Consumer

Reports that warned of dangerous levels of radioactivity in milk samples due

to fallout from atmospheric testing helped create "a full-blown fallout scare"

by the end of the 1950s. Historian Robert Divine argues that participation in

the test ban debate allowed Americans to deal with the "horrors of the hydro-

gen bomb" in an oblique fashion without confronting it directly. Instead of

trying to face the danger of all-out nuclear war by preparing an extensive, ef-

fective civil defense system, the population focused on the "less drastic but

still insidious threat of poisoned milk and contaminated air."⁴⁴

While most of the population probably tried to avoid thinking about the de-

struction suggested by civil defense preparations, international tensions occa-

sionally jolted Americans into the reality of life in the nuclear age. Pokorny

reported a spurt of interest in May 1960 after the collapse of the superpower

summit when Russia shot down an American U-2 spy plane. He estimated

his office received over 500 requests for literature after the conference fell

apart. This brief burst of concern notwithstanding, the general public and po-

litical leaders generally failed to express any enduring enthusiasm for civil

defense. Councilman Pecyk continued to criticize civil defense as a waste of

money. In January 1960 he made his third attempt in three years to cut

Cleveland's support for the county civil defense organization.  Pecyk

lamented that the "waste, lack of leadership, lack of direction, and lack of

planning by the Federal Civil Defense organization has permeated the local

level."  Local congressman Charles A. Vanik declared "the civil defense

boondoggle, at a cost of over a billion dollars, has gone far enough. The en-

tire program should be reviewed before another dollar is spent." The lack of

public response suggested many people in the general population agreed with

his opinion.⁴⁵

In 1960, Cuyahoga County again declined to join the National Civil

Defense exercise, Operation Alert '60. The Ohio primary fell on the day of

43. [bid., December 1, 1959.

44. Nevil Shute, On the Beach (New York, 1957); Divine, Blowing on the Wind, 161-63;

Consumer Reports, 24 (February, 1959), 102-11; Boyer, Bomb's Early Light, 353; Divine,

Blowing on the Wind, 263-64, 323.

45. Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 22, 1960; Cleveland Press, January 29, November 30, 1960.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                     77

the national test, so Pokorny did not order any form of public participation,

but promised to blow the faithful air raid sirens. The Press commented that

Cleveland's observation of "Op Alert '60" seemed in keeping with "the local

organization's policy of attempting to educate, but not irritate the public, so

there would be no particular pressure for anyone to do more than ... listen to

the sirens."46

Pokorny's team also presented a new civil defense plan to the community

schools in 1960, but the scheme met with only a bit of amazed laughter. It

called for the schools to alert a fleet of over 75,000 volunteer drivers, who

would then proceed quickly to the schools, pick up the children in an orderly

fashion, and race away from the city. School officials declared the plan

"fantastic," "impossible," "unworkable." Cleveland's superintendent flatly

stated "the plan will not work," although he was not without a sense of hu-

mor, suggesting "the smartest move the Russians could make would be to fire

a missile at us, provoke a CD warning, and then turn it back .... It would

take six months to unsnarl the traffic." He defined a central problem of the

civil defense strategy: evacuation, even if there was enough time, without

any practice or trained volunteers to provide assistance, would inevitably turn

into a disaster.⁴⁷

In March 1961 the Plain Dealer printed a series of stories detailing the

poor condition of civil defense in Cuyahoga County. Labeling efforts "a

flop," it stated citizens were unfamiliar with the meaning of the warning

sirens and had no idea if they were to seek shelter or flee. Local administra-

tors blamed their problems on lack of federal leadership, claiming they failed

to convey a sense of urgency to the population and establish a workable

blueprint for local civil defense. While the federal government recommended

family bomb shelters as the best method for protecting the family, a com-

pletely safe home shelter, designed to withstand both blast and fallout, could

cost more than $2,000, plus an additional $2,000 to stock it with two weeks

of food, water, and other needs. The Plain Dealer concluded that such a

shelter would be beyond the financial reach of most families, and labeled it

ridiculous, Pokorny only knew one man in Cuyahoga County who built a

backyard shelter. The Plain Dealer's assessment of civil defense made it

clear the area was grossly unprepared for an attack, a fact that did not appear

to concern the general population or the political leadership.⁴⁸

Persevering despite the criticism and disinterest, the civil defense office

agreed to take part in the April Operation Alert '61. Again, civil defense di-

rectors did not ask for public participation, staging only a paper exercise.

"There was little public interest in the drill, despite its importance to every-

46. Cleveland Press, March 23, 26, May 2, 1960.

47. Ibid., September 16, 1960; Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 15, 1960.

48. Cleveland Plain Dealer, March 2, 3, 4, 5, 1961.

78                                                   OHIO HISTORY

one." Pokorny lamented. The test did attract a group of protesters who gath-

ered at the Oberlin post office where the staff set up temporary quarters to

manage a post-attack recovery. The members of the Student Peace Union

called civil defense "silly nonsense.^"49

The election of President John F. Kennedy and the concurrent rise in cold

war tensions generated new interest in civil defense. After his confrontation

with Khrushchev in Vienna in May 1961, relations with the Soviets grew in-

creasingly strained during the summer of 1961 over the status of Berlin.

Many Americans sensed the world lurching towards armed confrontation,

prompting renewed interest in civil defense. In a televised speech on July 25,

1961, Kennedy emphasized the dangers of nuclear war and asked Congress to

appropriate more money for civil defense, especially community and family

shelters. Kennedy's warning "brought new life" to the civil defense office;

people called and visited the office at the rate of fifty an hour. Pokorny urged

citizens to "be prepared to take the best shelter available if there is a sudden

nuclear attack." But at the same time, he also warned people to "to take the

emergency food supply with you if an order is given to evacuate the city."

His statement indicated the confusion regarding the best means of protection

from nuclear attack-evacuation or shelters. The Cleveland office, despite

the fact that the federal government opposed evacuation as ineffective due to

ICBMs and hydrogen bombs, still planned for and recommended evacuation,

although at the same time it also encouraged personal shelters.50

Kennedy's enthusiasm for civil defense created a national civil defense

craze. "At cocktail parties and P.T.A. meetings and family dinners, on buses

and commuter trains and around office watercoolers, talk turns to shelters,"

Time reported. Newsweek noted that "the President's own eloquent state-

ments about the duties of every man to provide for his family-plus

Khrushchev's truculence over Berlin-have vaporized, as effectively as the

latest Soviet super bomb, the old foot dragging indifference" for civil de-

fense. Life printed a message from Kennedy reminding Americans "there is

much that you can do to protect yourself--and in doing so strengthen your

nation." Life promised readers they could be among the 97 percent to survive

if they followed its directions about how to build shelters and what to do dur-

ing an attack. The federal government prepared a new booklet, Fallout

Protection: What to Know and Do about Nuclear Attack, describing different

kinds of shelters, how to stock them, and how to escape fallout. Intended for

nationwide distribution to every home, Press paperboys proudly delivered

them to all their customers.⁵¹

49. Cleveland Press, April 8, 1961; Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 29, 1961; Cleveland Press,

April 29, 1961.

50. Cleveland Press, July 26, 27, 1961.

51. "Civil Defense: The Sheltered Life," Time, 78 (October 20, 1961), 21; Are Shelters the

Answer?" Newsweek, 58 (November 6, 1961), 19: John F. Kennedy, "A Message to You from

80                                                       OHIO HISTORY

constructed a model fallout shelter in a Shaker Heights home in August 1961.

Still at the height of the Berlin crisis, few people came to the open receptions

to see the new design, While opening the model shelter, the mayor of Shaker

Heights admitted he had no plans to build a shelter at his house. Shelters cost

too much money to build, even if people did have faith in them. Evidently

the civil defense staff in Cuyahoga County agreed, as none of the organiza-

tion's employees built shelters, either. A spokesman for Republic Steel later

recalled that the corporation never sold any of the shelters it built in the early

1960s.53

Evacuation, the alternative to shelters, also offered little safety to

Clevelanders. Efforts to evaluate the level of preparedness usually revealed

dangerous gaps in the comprehensive evacuation plan. On September 28,

1961, Al Ostrow, a reporter for the Press, and Pokorny followed one of the

escape routes going east, stopping at several of the schools designated as re-

ception centers for people fleeing the city. Most of the school principals to

whom they talked were unaware they might be invaded by thousands of peo-

ple in the event of an atomic attack. When told civil defense planned for

1,245 people to shelter at Auburn Elementary School, the principal replied

"that's news to me. I'd better get busy and work hard for world peace." The

principle of Troy Elementary also expressed surprise to learn he would be re-

sponsible for 2,430 refugees. Pokorny and Ostrow could not even locate one

school designated to host another 2,430 people.⁵⁴

Despite the problems with the evacuation plan, local civil defense directors

unanimously confirmed the official policy of evacuation in October 1961,

choosing to ignore the state and federal emphasis on shelters. Pokorny ex-

plained the group believed the enemy would strike military targets first.

which would give Cleveland, now labeled a non-military secondary target,

some time to evacuate. The local emphasis on evacuation, while the federal

government recommended shelters, probably only increased the level of pub-

lic confusion. Possibly some residents agreed with Pokorny, who warned a

hydrogen bomb might destroy the entire county, making evacuation the only

sensible plan. Why should they bother spending money on a shelter, even

though the federal government said it was the best means of protection, when

the local civil defense director counseled against it? Citizens following

Pokorny's advice, to evacuate rather than build shelters, could depend on the

53. Cleveland Press, August 2, 1961: Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 1, 1962; Cleveland

Press, September 18, 1961; Cleveland Plain Deealer, April 3, 1972; November 21, 1961. No

matter what plan civil defense officials decided was best for Cleveland, two local department

stores stood by ready to help the people of Cleveland. Both May's and Higbee's opened survival

departments in October 1961. They offered canned water, emergency food and cooking equip-

ment as well as prefabricated fallout shelters. The emergency food was suitable for use in a shel-

ter or when the family arrived at its eventual destination after evacuation. (Cleveland Press,

September, 28, 1961.

54. Cleveland Press, September 28, 1961.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                     81

county civil defense leaders to save them.⁵⁵

In April 1962, the Plain Dealer, under the title "Push fizzles out, little is

achieved," aptly summarized civil defense in the Cleveland area: "No inter-

est. No time. No money." Pokorny noted whenever an international crisis

erupted, such as the tension over Taiwan, the Marines landing in Lebanon, or

the 1961 Berlin crisis, interest in civil defense briefly increased. The main

problem, he believed, was lack of direction and encouragement from the fed-

eral government. Its failure to demonstrate a need for civil defense left the

public apathetic. As Americans moved to the suburbs, they wanted to live a

quiet domestic life without dwelling on the possibility of nuclear destruction.

For many, "it seemed silly to worry about something over which they had no

control." The Plain Dealer speculated many residents hoped the Russians

would concentrate on military targets and not waste a missile on Cleveland.

They also believed that fallout from Detroit, Toledo, or Chicago could not

possibly reach Cleveland. Even people in civic minded communities tended

to regard civil defense as illusory.⁵⁶

Pokorny attributed some of the shortcomings to the failure of suburban

politicians and civil defense directors to encourage the effort. Pokorny met

monthly with all the local civil defense directors, but usually only fifteen out

the fifty-eight came to the meeting. Some municipalities did not even bother

to appoint a civil defense manager. Most of the suburban communities did

not pay their civil defense leaders, so they had little commitment and little

accountability. At least one suburb found it barely had enough money for the

things it considered essential, which did not include civil defense.⁵⁷

Civil defense in Cleveland enjoyed another brief period of public attention

during the Cuban missile crisis in October 1962. People stood in lines out-

side the civil defense headquarters to obtain information about what to do in

case of attack. Cleveland's mayor demanded a report from Pokorny on cur-

rent defense preparations. The mayor sent a telegram to President Kennedy

urging him to increase assistance for local civil defense efforts. The Press

carried a prominent picture of the "growing stockpile of basic supplies to sus-

tain life [which] testifies to the gravity of the critical times." Yet Pokorny

could not estimate when shelters would be designated for these supplies, or

when they would be distributed. While the Cuban crisis stimulated aware-

ness in civil defense, it proved short-lived when the world pulled back from

the brink of nuclear destruction with the relatively quick resolution of the

confrontation. The tension over Cuba, like other international traumas before

it, prompted no lasting level of general public support for civil defense in

55. Ibid., October 27, 1961.

56. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 1, 1962; August 5, 1963; April 1, 1962.

57. Cleveland Plain Dealer, Ibid., April 1, 1962.

82                                                     OHIO HISTORY

Cuyahoga County.⁵⁸

The early years of the Kennedy administration marked the high point of

public consideration of civil defense in Cuyahoga County. After approaching

the brink of war during the Cuban missile crisis, the United States and the

Soviet Union concluded a test ban treaty in June 1963 which improved rela-

tions between the superpowers. The periodic pictures and reports of nuclear

tests which reminded people of the power of atomic weapons also disap-

peared as these tests moved underground. A year after the missile crisis,

Pokorny scheduled "Operation Know-How 1963, Greater Cleveland's most

ambitious attempt at a simulated disaster test." But again, as during previous

exercises, the attempt fell far short of its goal. The planners hoped for 1,300

people, recruited primarily from the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, to serve as

victims for practice by medical workers, but only 825 people volunteered.59

By 1964 interest in civil defense clearly was waning in all communities. In

this respect Cuyahoga County reflected the rest of the nation where discus-

sion of nuclear issues declined significantly after the test ban treaty and the

resolution of the Cuban missile crisis. Cleveland slashed $40,000 from its

annual civil defense budget in 1964, which received the hearty support of the

Press. The suburbs also reduced their aid for civil defense. In March 1964,

Mentor, Lakewood, and Willowick all ended their relationship with the

county organization. Mayor Nash of Cleveland Heights stated "there isn't

anything about which there is more apathy than Civil Defense." He encour-

aged the delinquent communities to "think of this as insurance." Ironically

support for civil defense declined at the same time that the potential for de-

struction escalated, as both the United States and the Soviet Union increased

their nuclear arsenals and improved their technology.60

Resignations by the suburbs from the county civil defense pact continued

throughout the 1960s. Some communities that did not withdraw formally

refused to pay their assessment; in 1967 only twenty-four out of forty-eight

member communities paid their share of the budget. The withdrawals left

James Cowden, who replaced Pokorny as the county civil defense director,

pleading for money to sustain the organization. In his 1966 budget request,

Cowden complained that as recently as 1963 the county CD office employed

thirteen people, but at the present time the office only had five employees,

with no clerical help. Cowden warned he could not "prevent many elements

of the program from falling behind. There has been a loss of public contact

58. Cleveland Press, October 23, 25, 26, 1962.

59. Winkler, "40-Year History of Civil Defense," 21; Cleveland Plain Dealer, October 13,

1963.

60. "Minutes of the Mayor's Advisory Committee on Civil Defense," January 10, 1964,

"Budget Report," October 14, 1964, Civil Defense collection: Cleveland Press, March 2, 3, 5,

1964; "Transcript of tape recorded minutes of mayor's advisory committee meeting." June 3,

1964, Civil Defense collection.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                           83

and a drastic limitation of direct assistance to the communities, all of which

has resulted in a loss of interest and concern for the responsibilities among

the community members." The demise of civil defense became clear in May

1970, when Cleveland Mayor Carl Stokes expressed his desire to withdraw

from the county civil defense compact. The county commissioners finally

voted to end the civil defense agreement on April 15, 1971. When the inter-

national ban on atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons kept nuclear explo-

sions out of the public's mind, and the Vietnam war filled the national spot-

light, civil defense could not compete.⁶1

Civil defense in Cuyahoga County lasted for approximately twenty years,

but except for periodic international crises, the general population and the

political leadership ignored the program. At the height of cold war tensions

in the early 1960s, people in Cleveland, as in the rest of the nation, expressed

much interest in bomb shelters and other civil defense measures. But few

actually built bomb shelters, volunteered as auxiliary policemen or air raid

wardens, or made any kind of commitment to the civil defense program. This

is not to belittle the accomplishments of the civil defense program, for indeed

there were several successes. Civil defense attracted several thousand volun-

teers for a variety of positions, taught a generation of schoolchildren to duck

and cover, created voluminous plans for escape routes, and stocked 222,689

shelter spaces by 1965. But all these accomplishments fell far below its

stated needs and plans: at least 375,000 volunteers, a comprehensive pro-

gram for school children acceptable to the school administration, an escape

plan that would not lead to mass confusion, and 1,926,000 shelter spaces. By

its own standards, civil defense in Cuyahoga County failed.⁶²

The reasons Cuyahoga County could not sustain a viable civil defense pro-

gram are multiple. Recruiting and training more than 375,000 volunteers, as

Augustus first proposed, was a complex task. None of the leaders had any

experience in recruiting volunteers or directing such a large organization.

Prominent national and local opponents of civil defense revealed the prob-

lems of civil defense, criticizing shelters and other measures as woefully in-

adequate, even futile, given the destructive force of the hydrogen bomb. The

National Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy (SANE), formed in 1957 to

draw attention to the dangers of nuclear war, argued civil defense was a dan-

gerous smokescreen to hide the threat of nuclear destruction. The anti-nu-

61. "Civil Defense Balance," March 1967, "Remarks Section-Revised Budget Figures-Civil

Defense-1966," assorted letters from Cowden to local mayors, "Summary of background of civil

defense," September 9, 1969, Civil Defense collection; Cleveland Press, April 10, 15, 1971:

James Farrell, review of Unthinking the Unthinkable: Nuclear Weapons and Western Culture,

by Jeff Smith, War Stars; The Superweapon and the American Imagination, by H. Bruce

Franklin, Symbolic Defense: The Cultural Significance of the Strategic Defense Initiative, by

Edward t. Linenthal, In American Quarterly, 43 (March, 1991), 158.

62. "Federal Program Paper for Local Civil Defense, Cuyahoga County, June 28, 1965," Civil

Defense Collection.

84                                                  OHIO HISTORY

clear movement won support in northeastern Ohio, as evidenced by the

protesters in Oberlin at the Operation Alert '61 exercise. Senator Young,

who repeatedly criticized civil defense as a useless boondoggle, undoubtedly

proved influential in reducing the level of public commitment. A 1963 fed-

eral case study on the state of civil defense in Cleveland noted that the nega-

tive "effects of this political leadership on the community have been rein-

forced by the pronouncements of a nationally respected doctor [Benjamin

Spock] associated with the leading university of the city." The mayors of

Cleveland also declined to provide a substantial level of political or public

backing. Soon after the Cuban missile crisis, the mayor called civil defense

"a stepchild of the past." Although the mayor of Cleveland chaired the

County Advisory Council on Civil Defense, few mayors bothered to attend

regularly. None of the political or civil defense leaders set an example for the

general public by making preparations for a nuclear attack. During the shel-

ter craze of the early 1960s no civil defense official or political leader built a

bomb shelter, although this was part of the federal government's plan to safe-

guard the population.⁶³

The roots of public apathy towards civil defense may also be traced to

larger, national causes. In the 1950s "America embraced the bomb," accord-

ing to historian Paul Boyer. One member of the Federal Office of Civil

Defense explained in 1968 that Americans believed in the power of the

United States military "to keep war away from their homeland. Civil defense,

in fact, implied that the military might fail in their task. This tended to create

an uncomfortable feeling among the public and indignation among the

military." While Americans did fear a possible nuclear attack, the United

States placed its faith in the threat of American bombs to prevent any such at-

tack. Comforted by slogans such as "peace through strength," Americans

trusted the power of technology. The "well publicized and imposing posture

of the Strategic Air Command and its long rang bombers," glorified in the

popular media, reassured the public that American technological prowess

could keep the nation safe. The editor of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists,

writing in October 1953, described the attitude of many Americans that pre-

vailed throughout the period: "The American tradition is to trust, in war as

well as in peace, in the superior American capacity for rapid development of

new technological methods and devices. Most Americans believe that in a

race of technological weapons with any other nation, America is bound to

make the better showing and that therefore we have no reason to be afraid of

such a race." The Nike missile sites, established in Cuyahoga County in the

63. Winkler, "40-Year History of Civil Defense," 21 for more information on SANE refer to

Divine, Blowing on the Wind, 165-69; Andrew  S. Bullis and Lawrence A. Williams, Organizing

Municipal Governments for Civil Defense, (Washington,  D.C., 1963), 266; Cleveland Press, May

3. 1954; Bullis, Organizing Municipal Governments, 266.

Civil Defense in Cleveland                                           85

1950s to protect against a bomb attack, gave Clevelanders tangible proof of

the technological prowess of the American military. Sputnik, launched in

1957, shook the country's faith in the superiority of its own technology, but

the public could still find some encouragement in the number and power of

American weapons. American faith in the power of technology to keep the

nation safe reached its zenith in the doctrine of mutual assured destruction

(MAD). By making the results of nuclear war much less disastrous for

America, an effective civil defense system would have upset the strategic

balance of MAD, which depended on the fear of total destruction to keep the

peace.⁶⁴

Civil defense in the Cleveland area, and across the county, also suffered

from the lack of federal leadership, as Pokorny and others often complained.

All presidents, from Truman to Johnson, used the post of FCDA director as a

political reward. Thus, the director was unprepared to handle the complex is-

sue of defense against nuclear attack, create a comprehensive plan, or provide

leadership to a large bureaucracy. While all the presidents spoke about the

need for civil defense, none, except Kennedy, invested any political capital to

push appropriations through Congress. In 1957, the Gaither committee rec-

ommended a military and civil defense plan costing up to $48 billion, but

Eisenhower, a staunch fiscal conservative, shelved the report.  Congress

honored Kennedy's 1961 plea for a renewed commitment to civil defense, but

the shelter mania so disturbed him that he declined to promote any more pro-

grams. Civil defense officials continually hoped for clear presidential advo-

cacy and directives, as Edward McDermott, of the Office of Civil and

Defense Mobilization, indicated in 1962: "Presidential support, coupled with

Congressional support . . . will be the spur needed to induce a change for the

better in the public attitude."⁶⁵

Ultimately, however, the primary reason for the apathetic response to civil

defense in Cuyahoga County must be found in the people themselves. Secret

plans of communist expansion, the growing military power of the Soviet

Union, and the possibility of atomic war may well have concerned the popu-

lace. But the threat of an attack on the United States, except for brief periods

of international anxiety, seemed all too far away for most people.

64. Neal Fitzsimons, "A Brief History of American Civil Defense," in Who Speaks for Civil

Defense?, ed. Eugene Wigner (New York, 1968), 29: Eugene Rabinowitch, "The Narrowing

Way," BAS, 9 (October, 1953), 294; Robert Malcolmson, Beyond Nuclear Thinking (Montreal,

1990), 12, 36-37; Mike Epple, Missiles on the Lake: Nike Missile Installations in Cleveland,

Ohio," (unpublished seminar paper, University of Akron, 1990 (?).

65. William L. O'Neill, American High: The Years of Confidence, 1945-1960 (New York,

1986), 274-75; Winkler, "40-Year History of Civil Defense," 19; Divine, Blowing on the Wind,

172; Blanchard, American Civil Defense, 465-93; Edward A. McDermott, "Public Support of

Civil Emergency Planning," in Behavioral Science And Civil Defense, ed. George W. Baker and

Leonard S. Cottrell, Jr. (Washington D.C., National Academy of Sciences--National Research

Council, 1962), 6.

86                                                         OHIO HISTORY

Clevelanders wanted "to tend the garden, mow the lawn, work around the

house, but not think about the possibility of nuclear destruction." With so

many other things to grab their attention, few people wanted to make the

commitment to civil defense. Public inattention may also indicate that the

residents of Cuyahoga County sought to deny the destructive potential of the

bomb. Herman Kahn, a defense analyst for the RAND Corporation and a

leading civil defense advocate, testified before Congress in 1961:

most people . . . do not want to face the reality of potential thermonuclear war as

something which might be fought. They prefer deterring it, abolishing it, wishing it

away, thinking it away, ignoring it, or in some other way denying its existence as a

problem worthy of consideration together with other programs. An incredibly large

number of people believe that if you build shelters you will have to use them.

Such an attitude should not seem unusual, for Americans unwilling to con-

front nuclear reality merely followed the teachings of Norman Vincent Peale,

who encouraged the country to "develop the habit of not talking about our

anxieties and worries .... Get your anxiety out of your general conversation,

and it will tend to drop out of your mind."⁶⁶

The cold war dominated American consciousness during the 1950s and

1960s. It led to the growth of the military industrial complex, an obsessive

fear of internal communist subversion, and a policy of American intervention

throughout the world to contain communism. The shadow of the atomic

bomb pervaded all aspects of American culture. But fear of the bomb, while

logically suggesting some need for personal insurance in the form of civil

defense, remained repressed beneath the surface of everyday life for most

Americans, including the residents of Cuyahoga County.

66. Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 1, 1962; Herman Kahn, "A Rational Basis for Decision

Making on Civil Defense Policy," Testimony given August 7, 9, 1961 before the Subcommittee

of the Committee on Government Operations, House of Representatives (U.S., Congress, 1961),

in Baker, Behavioral Science and Civil Defense, 35; Norman Vincent Peale and Smiley Blanton,

Faith is the Answer (New York, 1950), 71. Paul Boyer, in By the Bomb's Early Light, 419-20,

note #11, suggests those interested in subconscious nuclear fear refer to Robert Jay Lifton, Death

in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (New York, 1968); The Broken Connection: On Death and the

Continuity of Life (New York, 1979), 337-87; and Boundaries: Psychological Man in

Revolution (New York, 1971), 339-52.