Presque Isle, Maine is pretty close to the end of the road. Way, way up in northern Maine, beyond the northern terminus of I-95. Even today, the roughly 400 mile drive from Boston would take a good 7-8 hours, assuming you kept moving and didn't hit a moose along the way. In 1940, when US Route 1 was the only way to get there, it could easily have taken a couple of days.

Yet, there she is. Up there in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but potato farms and the Great North Woods, sits a stunning vision of beauty, a girl any 12-year old boy would easily and quite happily fall hopelessly, eternally in love with. My goodness!

For Mainers those ARE smiles. They are practically grinning!

Re: "Nobody is smiling." What do you mean? My maternal family is from Maine and Vermont. They ARE smiling!

It's hard to tell which unsmiling expression is more interesting -- the curious girl's, the disgusted woman's, the bemused man's or the very alert dog's.

I speculate the young lady will be breaking the hearts of some returning soldiers in a few years.

I wonder if that little girl grew up to be Kim Novak or Eva Marie Saint.