Love stories can be found in many places: movies, books, plays and songs, to name the most obvious. But, I found one. In a library.
UT's Carlson Library. In a stack of boxes at the Ward Canaday Center..
What I unearthed inside those boxes was a treasure of letters, photos, articles and illustrations; illustrations from the hand of a Toledo solider. Found were pictures and sketches drawn in pencil, some in ink, in a foxhole during World War II.
That soldier was Steven Pecsenye, a native of east Toledo's Birmingham neighborhood and the youngest son of his Hungarian born parents. He grew up in the 1920s and 30s on those immigrant-rich streets. He then found himself, like so many young men of that era, ready to serve his country at the out break of World War II. It meant not just going to war, but it meant being away from the woman of his dreams, Donna Bungard of Toledo.
After meeting and falling instantly in love at Toledo's then-popular Trianon ballroom, Steven and Donna became engaged. Then "Steff" as she called him, was shipped off with the Third Army to Italy to Anzio Beach in January of 1944.
He would witness some of the worst and bloodiest fighting of the war, with heavy casualties on both sides. Steven was in the thick of it. To pass the time, he wrote letters, but he used more than words. He used his talent for art. His letters home, sent by V-mail, were almost always decorated with his hand-drawn sketches and illustrations. He had a talent for it. It was just something he liked to do. He developed those skills as a student at Macomber High School. His letters soon became his refuge and his canvas and his favorite subject was his love Donna.
"It was amazing that he would always portray his sweetheart as the classic idealized 'sweater' girl," Magda Pecsenye, Steven's granddaughter said.
He drew scenes that would depict her looking out a window thinking of him with hearts all around. He would also make the "o" in Donna into the shape of a heart. He wrote her poems and swore his faith and love, vowing to return and marry her. Page after page in the many scrapbooks now held at the Carlson library offer this collection of sweet loved-laced V-mail that Corporal Pecenye sent home daily.
The term "V-mail" was short for "Victory mail" and was actually a quick way for soldiers on the front to send a one page message to a loved one. They were collected and taken to a main processing office and then transmitted electronically to New York where they were reduced to a postcard-sized letter and sent to waiting families around the country.
Magda believes her grandfather's letters may be one of the largest collections of V-mail letters in the country.
There are hundreds of them. Not just those he sent to his fiance, but also to his parents. He was a clever artist and sometimes humorous. There is no doubt his missives brought many smiles to those who received them. But, not all were happy pictures. For many soldiers who were holding tightly onto long distance relationships like Steven, the wait and uncertainty could be harrowing. Not knowing what "your girl" was doing back home, some of Steven's V-mails were caricatures of himself, with tears running down his cheeks.
"It was plaintive and sad," Magda said.
She thinks her grandfather's insecurity was probably influenced by the number of soldiers who would get the dreaded "Dear John" letters from girlfriends letting them know they had found someone else.
There were also many times Steven would draw caricatures of other soldiers in his company. However, there were no battle scenes, or anything desolate or war-like. Many of his drawings were serene landscapes of the nearby countryside and Magda believes that was his escape from ugliness of war.
"There were times when he wasn't saying anything, just drawing scenes, idealized scenes of people and landscapes, and we think this is when the fighting was most difficult for him. He just wanted to draw a world where he'd rather be at the time," she said.
When the war finally ended, Steven came home and within a month married the woman he loved. They stayed together 50 years until his death in 1995.
He never traveled and never wanted to return to Europe.
"The war was hard on him," Magda said.
She was very close to her grandfather as she grew up in west Toledo.
"He just wanted to have a safe and happy life."
Despite his obvious talents for art, Steven did not turn it into a career. Instead, he worked at a chemical factory, moved to Point Place and raised two sons. His son, the late Tim Pecsenye, was a well-known organizer of the German American Festival. His son, Steven, would study at MIT and later become a project manager for the city of Toledo. Magda is the daughter of the younger Steven and says she spent lots of her childhood with her grandfather who loved to be around children. He helped them engender a sense of imagination and fearlessness.
He did continue his love for art as a hobby. He painted, did pen and ink sketches and even produced and published a Hungarian coloring book for kids. Magda said her grandfather thought it was important for Hungarian-American children to have a better grasp on the Hungarian traditions and cultures of the old country.
Several copies of the coloring book, along with the entire collection of V-mails, and other content reside in the Pecsenye collection at the Canaday Center.