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I had to learn to live on less when I began college on the GI Bill after service in World War II. Other than the fact that people were trying to kill me during the Pacific campaigns, I had a rather favorable financial situation when aboard ship in the Navy.

All food, housing and clothing were furnished, and in addition, by the end of the war, I was receiving $300 a month in salary as an E6 (Navy petty officer first class/Army and Marine technical sergeant). Then, after my discharge from the service, I was suddenly forced to live on my $100 monthly GI Bill stipend as an fine arts major in college.

That had to be stretched over all monthly expenses, including housing, clothing, food and what little entertainment I could afford. Fortunately, the GI Bill paid for books and art supplies, but I had other issues to solve.

First, I had to find housing near the college, because there were no student dorms. I was fortunate to find three other ex-servicemen classmates to share a fourth floor, walk-up apartment. It had one bedroom for cots and desks and a small kitchen. Because it was on the top floor of the apartment house, there was also a flat roof area just outside the kitchen window for sunning, studying, painting and whatever date fooling around we could muster.

We defrayed some costs and made a bit of a barter profit several times a monh when we could turn the roof into a sort-of dinner club. We invited college classmates and their dates for an evening of dining and dancing under the stars to recorded music. The fee was that each was to bring extra food and drinks for we four apartment dwellers.

The total rent and utilities for the apartment cost $60 a month, so each of us had to shell out only $15 of our $100. My next issue was how I could make my remaining $85 last 30 days. I had a seabag full of old Navy fatigue clothes, underwear and shoes, so that was no problem.

All of us in the apartment were guys in our early 20s with healthy appetites, so getting enough to eat was an important concern. There was a farmer's market about six city blocks north of our apartment, so we could stock up on fresh fruits and vegetables at reasonable prices. However, we couldn't afford their meats, poultry and other staples.

For major meal items, we found a food goldmine just around the corner from our apartment. It was a Horn & Hardart day-old store. Not many people today remember the H&H automats that were popular in New York City and Philadelphia from the end of the 19th Century through about 1960.

In addition to the restaurants, their day-old retail outlets offered unsold dishes. H&H prices were very reasonable, and the day-old items were fantastically cheap. For instance, a $2 pumpkin pie sold for 25 cents, providing enough hearty slices for four people. A tub of macaroni and cheese or hot dogs and beans, worth $1 retail, sold for 10 cents. They each made two big servings for four hungry guys.

With the nearby H&H day-old store providing most of our food, I could eat three big meals a day for about $20 a month. We had other cheap and free food sources. One of the four guys lived on a chicken farm, and every Monday after a visit to his home, he brought two roasted chickens for us to share.

It has been many decades since my college days of struggling to live on less. At the time, I'm sure I didn't think it was easy to do, but looking back with nostalgia, I wouldn't trade it for residing and dining in a king's palace.

Learn more about this author, Ted Sherman.
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