On 15 August 1945, as church bells rang, sirens wailed, and crowds flooded the streets of Boston to celebrate the end of the World War II, an act of quiet desperation unfolded in plain sight. Amid the largest party the city had ever known, a well‑dressed young woman approached a teenage newsboy sitting on a bench on Boston Common. She asked him to hold her baby while she ran a quick errand. She pressed two dollars into his hand. Then she disappeared into the jubilant crowd and was never seen again.

The abandoned infant would soon be known to the city as “Little Mister Victory”—a name given by nurses who cared for him in the days following VJ Day. His story captured the hearts of Bostonians in the summer of 1945, then faded from public memory almost as quickly as it appeared. Decades later, his daughter would reopen the mystery, uncovering a family history more complex, shocking, and poignant than anyone could have imagined.

This is the remarkable true story told in Little Mister Victory.

Joy and relief are abundant in this screenshot from the Army Signal Corps film taken in downtown Boston on VJ Day. (National Archives)

Boston’s newspapers seized upon the story immediately. A baby abandoned on the Common—on VJ Day of all days—was irresistible. Reporters framed the story as both tragedy and symbol, contrasting the nation’s joy with a mother’s despair.

Photographs of nurses holding the baby ran prominently on front pages. The public followed every update: his condition, his clothing, the efforts to locate his mother. Nurses at Boston City Hospital nicknamed him Little Mister Victory, a bittersweet tribute to the day he was found.

Police pursued leads across New England. Footprint impressions were circulated to hospitals. Sightings were reported from Maine to New York. Nothing came of them. Within two weeks, the story began to fade from the headlines as the world’s attention turned toward rebuilding after the war.

But for the baby, the consequences were permanent.

An uncredited Boston Record photographer captured Sergeant (and grandfather) John Tesoraro cradling Little Mister Victory at Boston City Hospital the evening of the baby’s abandonment. (Courtesy Boston Herald)

From the front page of the Boston Record, August 15, 1945, this is nurse Eileen Resmini of Boston City Hospital holding Little Mister Victory the evening of his abandonment. (Print courtesy of the Ryan family)

The story begins in 1831, when Samuel Stillman Pierce and his business partner Eldad Worcester opened a modest grocery store at the corner of Court and Tremont Streets. Boston was still a young city, but it was already thriving as a hub of trade, culture, and intellectual life.

Pierce set out with a philosophy that would define the company for generations: build a reputation first, and success will follow. Rather than focusing on quick profits, he was committed to quality, service, and trust. Every product was carefully selected. Inferior goods were simply not allowed on the shelves.

At a time when most shops sold basic staples, Worcester & Pierce distinguished itself by offering something more—consistency, reliability, and attention to detail. It didn’t take long for word to spread, and the small corner store quickly became a trusted name among Boston’s growing middle and upper classes.

As the business grew, so did its ambitions. Pierce was not content to provide only everyday necessities. Instead, he began sourcing imported goods from around the world—introducing American customers to an array of flavours and delicacies that were, at the time, practically unheard of.

Tea from China and India, olives from Spain, wines from Madeira, olive oil from Italy—these were not common items in an American grocery store of the 1830s and 1840s. Yet S.S. Pierce made them accessible, cultivating a clientele eager to explore global cuisine.

Boston’s busy harbour played a crucial role in this expansion. Ships arriving from distant ports brought exotic goods that Pierce could acquire and sell. In some cases, he even bartered with captains, exchanging provisions for rare imports. This inventive approach allowed the company to offer products that no competitor could match.

Over time, the store became synonymous with luxury. It wasn’t just where people bought food—it was where they discovered new tastes and refined their palates.

By the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, S.S. Pierce had become a cornerstone of Boston’s identity. Its expansion reflected its success, with multiple retail locations opening in prominent neighbourhoods and affluent suburbs.

The store at Copley Square, in particular, became a landmark—an elegant space showcasing not only groceries but an entire lifestyle centred on quality and refinement. Customers could browse departments dedicated to tea, coffee, wine, confectionery, and more, each offering carefully curated selections.

This period marked the company’s golden age. Sales grew dramatically, and its influence extended far beyond Massachusetts. Through its wholesale operations and mail-order service, S.S. Pierce reached customers across New England and even farther afield.

For many, shopping at S.S. Pierce was an experience. Clerks were knowledgeable and attentive. Goods were beautifully displayed. Every visit reinforced the company’s reputation as a purveyor of “the best.”

In 1887, S.S. Pierce introduced what would become one of its most innovative and influential ventures: The Epicure.

Part catalogue, part magazine, The Epicure went beyond listing products. It offered recipes, entertaining advice, and articles on food and culture. It invited readers into a world of elegant dining and social refinement, positioning the company as an authority on taste and hospitality. Customers could use the catalogue to order goods from home, but it also inspired them—showing how those goods could be transformed into memorable meals and gatherings. In many ways, The Epicure anticipated the rise of modern lifestyle brands. It did not simply sell products; it sold an aspiration—a vision of gracious living that customers could emulate.

Behind its elegant storefronts and impressive logistics was a large and loyal workforce. Employees were central to the company’s success, and many remained with S.S. Pierce for decades. The sense of community was strong. Staff participated in social events, outings, and recognition programmes, reflecting a workplace culture that valued dedication and long service. In fact, the company maintained a “Quarter Century Club” for employees who had worked there for 25 years or more.

This loyalty translated into exceptional service. Workers took pride in their roles, whether they were preparing orders, managing inventory, or delivering goods to customers’ homes.

Stories of extraordinary service became part of the company’s legend—deliveries made during snowstorms, urgent orders fulfilled at the last minute, and a willingness to go above and beyond for customers.

Despite its decline, the legacy of S.S. Pierce & Company remains significant. It helped shape the evolution of food retailing in America, introducing concepts that are now taken for granted: curated product selection, mail-order convenience, branded goods, and lifestyle marketing.

More than that, it played a role in transforming how people thought about food. It encouraged exploration, elevated standards, and brought global flavours into American homes long before such experiences became commonplace.

At its heart, the story of S.S. Pierce is one of ambition, innovation, and adaptation—and the difficulty of maintaining excellence in a world that is constantly changing.

This is a bumper month of new releases across our super successful series. We are also delighted to kick start our NEW EDITIONS series featuring our best-selling books updated with more content and images.