Celebration of the Fourth of July has taken many forms through the years, but it hasn’t always been a joyous event.

In 1944, after three years of tremendous sacrifice in both lives and money, World War II was still a year from ending in Europe and Japan, and America was not in a festive mood.

In the Twin Cities on July 4, 1944, any observances of the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence were particularly subdued.

The holiday “used to be known as the Glorious Fourth,” read a story in the Lewiston Daily Sun. “It’s something else this year. Lewiston and Auburn, except for the closing of mercantile and some industrial plants, are paying it no attention.”

The news report said there would be “no parades, no band concerts, no big celebration in Perryville, once thronged by thousands to see the Fourth of July sports.”

It said, “There’ll be no fireworks, no baseball or other sports. In fact, the nearest thing to a holiday observance, if it can be considered in that category, will be a midnight dance or two.”

Some families were still taking summer vacation trips to resorts, but “there was no comparison in the volume of holiday traffic with that of prewar years. Buses and trains had their share of passengers but the automobile tourist simply didn’t have the gas to ride around the lake.”

Nevertheless, the writer found a bit of wry humor in the situation as he reported, “The loudest explosion in the two cities on the night before came from a cap pistol in the hands of a youthful celebrator on Goff Hill. It failed to disturb the neighbors or even wake the echoes.”

The quiet Fourth of July offered an opportunity to ask an old-timer about holiday festivities of past years. The elderly Lewiston resident said, “I can remember when one of our chief events was to ride the open cars to Lake Grove or take a trip around the Figure Eight. I suppose I could ride the buses back and forth, but somehow I don’t think I’d get the same kind of kick I would from the old eight-wheelers.

“Remember when we used to charter the parlor car “Merrymeeting” and go gallivanting as far away as Bath?” he asked.

The writer suggested that the subdued tone of the holiday might have some redeeming features.

He said newspaper headlines not many years before often declared, “Loses Right Eye in Explosion,” “Fireworks Blamed for $10,000 Blaze,” “Two Dozen Get Tetanus Antitoxin,” and “Drunk Driver Crashes Store Front.”

The reporter said, “Fathers and mothers can relax. Fireworks injuries will be lacking because there aren’t any fireworks.” He wrapped up his story with a note that “the 12 towns in Androscoggin County are still behind on the Fifth War Bond quota” and he suggested that “Uncle Sam will appreciate bond subscriptions a lot more than any hurrahing or any other superficial method of testifying to the meaning of citizenship.”

Two years later on July 4, 1946, the end of the war was several months in the past and the Fourth of July celebration had resumed its former exuberance.

A news story said, “One of Auburn’s biggest bonfires blazed atop Goff Hill last midnight to celebrate the city’s first post-war Fourth of July. The flaming pyre, about 25 feet high and containing an estimated 25 tons of lumber, rubber tires, pasteboard, leather scraps and other odds and ends could be seen from vantage points throughout the two cities.”

Firemen from the Auburn Heights Fire Station supervised the bonfire on Franklin lot near Fairmount Avenue. The bonfire climaxed an evening which started with a street dance on the square at Court and Granite streets.

Another holiday event was “a ballgame between the Goff Hill married men and the remaining Auburn Heights bachelors at the diamond on Granite Street.”

In the evening, a water battle took place at the Goff Hill fire station in which three-man teams wielded inch-and-a -half fire hoses, and L-A residents enjoyed resumption of the popular public fireworks display.

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by sending email to [email protected].