This scrappy old sailor hits 100
John Pletkovich in the autumn of 1941 -- in his senior year of teaching college and a few months before the U. S. entered the war. Credit: Courtesy of John Pletkovitch
Sometime during the spring of 1943 — or was it '44? — a hellacious fight broke out at the Lorelei Dance Hall on East 86th Street in Manhattan.
Few remember the Lorelei now, but it was something in its heyday. Everyone knew the place, especially those who lived in then largely German Yorkville.
That was the issue — the whole German thing. Some Yorkville toughs remained loyal to Hitler’s Reich long into the war. That didn’t sit right with two noncommissioned officers from the Destroyer Escort USS Jacob Jones that was docked at the Brooklyn Navy Yard for resupply before heading back into the North Atlantic.
Chief Petty Officer John Robert Pletkovich and Chief Boatswain Mate Frank Smith, an old salt who had lied about his age to fight in the First World War, were at Lorelei in search of what sailors have sought since Jason captained the Argo: beer and girls. What they got instead was lip from some patrons. They couldn’t let it go.
Fists flew, Pletkovich and Smith, hopelessly outnumbered, were ejected onto the cold Manhattan pavement and a call to the Jacob Jones was made.
Within an hour, dozens of young sailors arrived at the Lorelei and a fantastic, old-fashioned bar brawl ensued — glass shattering defenestrations, chairs over heads, bodies splayed across bars.
Then the miliatry police arrived. That’s when things really got nuts. Eventually, the NYPD showed up, and somehow — somehow! — no charges were filed. While a dozen of New York’s finest looked the other way, the crew of the Jones melted into the night.
Like most of East 86th Street, the buildings that held the Lorelei, 231-235 between Second and Third Avenues, are long gone. Modernity holds no sentiment, and thousands of pedestrians walk past the scene of the noble clash today with nary a thought of what might have once occurred there.
That’s not OK with a remarkable young man from Kenilworth High School in New Jersey named Michael Naya. The 17-year-old senior was struck by lightening of an idea as a freshman, and he has devoted much of the past three years to interviewing centenarian veterans from across America, more than 80 at this point. Pletkovich, of Peoria, Illinois, luck would have it, turns 100 on Monday. He and Naya have become fast-friends.
Pletkovich, an unassuming father of four and great-grandfather, had been captain of the Western Illinois State Teachers College golf team (Go, Leathernecks!) shortly before the war broke out. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps along with his best friend 11 days after Pearl Harbor was bombed. After learning to fly BT4s and Fairchild PT-19s, Pletkovich was grounded because of a hearing condition that kicked in above 12,000 feet. His friend didn’t survive the war.
Pletkovich made more than two dozen trips across the U-boat infested Atlantic before becoming a commissioned officer on an LST (or tank landing ship) that ferried Japanese prisoners from the Philippines to Shanghai, China. Pletkovich recalls asking a Chinese officer who had attended Stanford University what would happen to the prisoners. The officer replied icily: “That’s not for you to know.”
Naya has now organized a letter-writing campaign in his school district for a celebration of Pletkovich’s birthday this weekend. (Anyone so inclined can send cards to: 506 W. Melbourne Ave., Peoria, IL 61604.)
If Pletkovich represents the selflessness of his generation, Naya defies the stereotype of his own: a generation often portrayed as dismissive of their forebearers. His is the generation, after all, that coined the über-obnoxious colloquialism “OK, Boomer.”
Nice job, Michael.
Sixteen million Americans fought in World War II. Fewer than 400,000 are still alive.
They are scattered pearls — some with pretty good left hooks.
William F.B. O'Reilly is a consultant to Republicans.
William F. B. O'Reilly is a Newsday Opinion columnist. He works as a corporate and political communications consultant. He works with clients on the Republican side of the aisle.
