I intend to post almost daily, and in roughly chronological order, the thousands of pages of daily love letters that my parents sent to each other during WWII and any other documents that pertain to these letters..
Yours of Jan. 31 brought my mail from you right up to date. The creases at the bottom of this page were made by Adele, who unsuccessfully tried to grab it and tear it. Guess she doesn't think much of my letters, huh? Your letter was so charming and tender that I hereby bestow a kiss on each precious finger and an extra special one on your well-loved lips. When you write of the uncomfortable cold, I want to run out and catch the next boat or plane for England. I'm sorry you had so much trouble deciphering my v-mail of the 17th. I use v-mails only when time is lacking and the days is too routine to encourage a regular letter. Excuse, please.
As far as birthday and anniversary gifts go, I hardly know what to suggest. I've already mentioned a pin and earrings (gold with a zircon-colored stone), but I’ve priced them, and a good looking pin of the type I'd like runs into $50 and that's entirely too much for imitation jewelry. If you see anything nice in a pin, earrings or bracelet, okay, though I'm inclined to believe that items in England are costlier. I'd love to have a pair of good satin lounging pjs, but I'd much rather go shopping withyou for such an item, and besides, I'm leery about the fit. If you decide to send cash, I'd settle for a dressy suit of aqua color to go with my aqua hat and gloves. On the day I see you again, I want to dress and be very like the girl you married one March 20th. I’ve shopped around for all items mentioned in my letters and find merchandise is “shot,” hardly any selection and no quality unless you pay extremely high for it. If I have the money I can always buy when I see something suitable. However, I've not really come across anything I'd like to buy.
The heater has been “percolatin’” fine this year and it runs on 72 constantly. The house is much warmer than I ever recall it being when you were home. You needn’t be a “worry-wart” either, for Adele is permitted freedom to a certain extent. She falls many times a day herself, and there are many falls that cannot be prevented. As long as she doesn't really hurt or bruise herself I’m getting used to the idea that children will fall many times, and that's that. I'm jittery when I let her walk outside, but not when she walks in the house. I work hard to keep the rugs and sundry immaculately clean to be sure she won't pick up any foreign matter. I have to laugh at a remark Goldie once made—that I rush too much and do too much. Wait til she has a baby to care for! I hate rushing, but if I didn't, Adele and this house would be filthy. I can never accomplish anything without numerous interruptions, which I detest, so naturally, I try my utmost to finish whatever is at hand to be done in the least possible time. Reminds me of your “files.”
Rae bought Adele six Hershey Bars and Adele warmed up instantaneously. Rae slept over and went to work from here. As soon as she has the chocolates for me, I'll send off the next package. I'll try to include everything you asked for and I promise to take that picture shortly.
Betty was laid off as the company had been trying something new and having completed the project, no longer required the services of a few girls. A few days ago, Betty fell in a bus and banged her head when the bus stopped short. Today, the PTC paid off —$15.
Did I tell you that through my mom, who has become quite friendly with a woman with good connections, politically and financially, my dad has an excellent opportunity to change his job? The position in question pays well; day work with a wholesale furniture house that sells everything from soup to nuts. If the deal goes through, my dad will quit Parkway very soon. By the way, he took your moth-eaten pants to a weaver, and they only wanted $18 to reweave, same. He did an expert job on them himself and that covert suit looks wonderful on him.
Miss Hahn called to inform me that my double order of stationery had arrived and since I intended to call for it, I'm going to work four hours tomorrow morning while my mother cares for Adele. My grandmother keeps my mother up all night with her heart attacks. Consequently, they visited a doctor today and I don't know the outcome.
Adele was “making believe” today. Sarah gave her a clean plate and Adele made believe she was eating. She would reach out, take imaginary food off the plate, chew it, and repeat. Then she would pretend to lick the plate. I can't get over how she says “sh” every time she has to “go.” It never fails for her to pat her cheek when she has “made,” and this habit is very lovable and cute. She sort of “crows” when she's especially excited. And she adores dancing—anytime, anyplace. She swings her arms as we dance and looks so dreamy.
The last few days we've had freezing weather. I don't take Adele out when it is so cold. Mom sent Jakie, a Jewish letter as he said there was a fellow in the company who reads and writes Jewish.
I've got a great big yen to love you up, so look out mister, ’cause here I come, ready or not. I love you so much, Phil. Started out like a lion, but I'm only a lamb at heart.
Your Eve
February 10, 1944
Ev, dearest,
The big news today is that I received your two lovely letters of 31 Jan. and 1 Feb. But “first things first”—and I want to explain something in yours of the 8 Jan. that seemed to puzzle you. That phrase “your lover, as always,” was one I had never used in a complimentary closing. When that particular evening, I had typed a V-mail letter for Sgt. Trombetti, and he had used that closing. When I wrote my letter—I was stuck for an ending, so I “lifted” the phrase. Hence the (Courtesy Sgt. Trombetti). Fershtay? O.K. Your letters reached me in such screwy sequence, that I don't really know what goes on. Yesterday, your V-mail of the 25th told me that Jack had come in and that you were all going out in Milton's car. Naturally, I could hardly wait for your next to learn where you had gone, and what you had seen, and how you had enjoyed yourself. So what happens? So today I receive your letter of the 31st. But where are those of the 26-7-8-9-30? Do you understand how annoying this sort of thing can be? Don't get the impression though, Sweetness, that I didn't enjoy the letters I received today. Quite the contrary! Your description of “Miss America” and her amusing antics and her almost mature understanding of “what it's all about” makes very entertaining reading. You might send that stationery along, provided it's not too wide (like this), nor too heavy.
You want to know what you can send in your next package. Once and for all—CANDY! (as often and as much as you can send). Don't forget there are about a dozen guys around to help me eat it—so you can imagine how much I get out of it. Of course, the “arrangement” is reciprocal, and I help them dispose of their spare chocolate when they get some.
There is really very little to write it about around here. Can you imagine? I almost forgot to tell you that I received a V-mail from Richie Lieberman. I can now definitely assure you that he is still in Iceland. How in hell did that other rumor ever get started—anyhow?
Right now I am visiting Red in Hospital. He developed a bad cold shortly after getting back, but he's O.K. now and will probably be out tomorrow.
Sorry I have to sign off now, Baby, but here in Hospital they put the lights out at 10 sharp and it's now 10 minutes of. I'm sending all my love, and returning that big kiss, you sent me. Lady, just you wait until I get my hands on you—! Better start looking around for a muzzle, Baby, 'cause I'm gonna eat you alive. Better hide the punkin when you see me comin’—she's only one good mouthful. Love to all. I am, hungry
Your v-mail of Feb. 1, 1944 came through today setting a new record for delivery of your v-mail. I don't know why you left yourself so low on funds. I'd rather wish you wouldn't. I said before that I'm not counting on any special amount, just as long as you send whatever you can conveniently spare. I want to save, yes, but I think you are entitled to more than $19. Thanks for your sweet thoughtfulness, darling, and your unselfishness. I'm surprised you were able to remit in amount of $75, as you said you could only send tens. I really only expected $60 and I'm a bit surprised, as you said that the check would be in that amount. I'm in no dire need of cash at the moment. (I was last month, but working for Miss Hahn saw me through) and expect my large check on March 1. Consequently, the complete $75 will be turned into a $100 bond. It is the most we ever saved at one time since our marriage and it makes me very happy. I hope you feel the same. That night you mentioned when Red came in, is very vivid in my memory, and I, too, would love to relive it and soon. Adele and I were building houses with her blocks today and she kept throwing down what I laboriously built. Rae is coming to dinner tonight. I ordered another box of chocolates for you from her. I love you, sweet.
Your Eve
February 9, 1944
My Darling,
This is the first opportunity I have had to continue, as you shall hear—at length. I just finished reading over what I had written—and was appalled that I had covered so little ground. I will “pick up the thread” where I broke it. Leaving the Baths, I went directly to the Hans Crescent.—Still no Eddie. So I engaged a bunk for that night and took off for the Eagle—where Junior had said he would try to meet me for breakfast. He didn't show up either. I ate breakfast, therefore, with only the newspaper for company. After that I stuck around in the lounge until noon, which was the “deadline” Junior and I had agreed on the previous night. When my wrist-watch (still running like a charm, incidentally) showed 12 o'clock, I preceded ’round the corner to the Odeon to see “Phantom of the Opera.” I was remembering your raves about it and looked forward to a truly wonderful picture. Well, Chippie, I can appreciate why you thought so highly of it. After all, it was very colorful and lavishly produced, and the music throughout was edifying (if unexciting), and Susanna Foster is very lovely, and her voice leaves very little to be desired. But, Chippie, you didn't see the silent version of this one with Lon Chaney, and couldn't, therefore, make any comparison. I, on the other hand, remember it vividly because it made an indelible impression on my mind at the time. I assure you, speaking strictly from the point of entertainment value, the silent is by far the better effort. The element of horror and mystery that is meant to be the dominating motif is subdued almost to the point of extinction. Lon Chaney was very effective in the title role. I remember Harry got very sick when the mask came off and the “true” face of the Phantom was revealed. Women in the audience screamed and fainted so horrific were his features. The “chandelier” sequence was a thing of heart-stopping suspense—not the rather silly theatrics of the current picture. On the whole, Chippie, I was mildly entertained and very disappointed with the sacrificing of the qualities that could have made it a great picture.—To get on.—Whoa! Sorry, Sweet, I put the cart before the horse. I saw “Phantom of the Opera” in the evening. The afternoon was spent at Albert Hall. This time I got a seat close to the stage and got a close up view of the Orchestra and the Soloist. I am enclosing the program, which was as delightful as it was varied. “Till Eulenspiegel” especially, caught my fancy. I don't think I ever heard it played so effectively. Iso Ellison is the “typical” long-haired musician. He appeared to be an eccentric, and to have copied his attire and big bow tie and thick bushy hair warn long in the back, and neat Van Dyke beard—from the comic strips. He is in his fifties and stockily built. As you can see by the program, he played Mozart. For your information, Sweet, Mozart's piano music is very distinctive. Its main qualities are lightness, capriciousness, and a very listenable tunefulness. What I'm driving at is that Ellison didn't look the type to play that kind of music effectively. I felt when I saw him that I was in for a disappointing performance. However, I had forgotten that appearances are often deceiving. I was soon reminded of it though, 'cause he gave a flawless performance of technically difficult music. More surprising, he played with a true feeling for the grace and charm that is so much a part of Mozart's music. Everyone likes to be pleasantly surprised—and I'm no exception. I enjoyed the concert very much—as per usual. Someday, Sweet, you will have as great a liking and appreciation of symphony as I have. I've made up my mind to “educate” you in this respect, when I once again have the opportunity. Are you willing, Baby?
Well, I've already explained that I went to the cinema in the evening, but between the concert and the movie, I managed to stop back at the Hans Crescent to see if Eddie had showed up yet. Before that, I had supper at the Eagle. After the show, I again returned to Hans Crescent—still no Eddie, so I had a snack and settled down to write in the “writing and music” room. I completed the first seven pages by 12 midnight, and I would have written as much more in spite of the time had I not run out of stationary.
I spent a very restful night at the Hans Crescent, sleeping like a log, and dreamlessly. I woke at 10 A.M. I felt fresh and well-rested, so I dressed and got out of there. I stopped at the desk long enough to leave a fresh note for Ed. Then I went to the Eagle Club for breakfast. I had to make a five o'clock train, which gave me ample time to see one more movie. This one was by far the best of the three. “Thousands Cheer” is the best musical I have ever seen. It's in Technicolor and so many M.G.M. stars that I don't want to take the time to enumerate them. You probably know who they are, anyhow. Suffice it to say, then, that each and everyone is at his best with the result that the picture is just about the best of its type. So much did I enjoy it, in fact, that I sat through two complete showings—and might have made it three were it not time to catch that train. See it, Honey. I’d hate to have you miss this one. You'll love it! The trip back was uneventful. I read detective stories all the way and the hours flew by. And that, Chippie, was the end of another “London pass.”
Next morning I was very disappointed because no mail had arrived from you in my absence. However, there was a “consolation prize.” The Fanny Farmer chocolates, Hershey Bars and Chewing Gum had arrived the day before. The package was most welcome, but I think I would have traded it for a nice long letter from you, Sweetheart. But I guess that would be asking for too much. Thanks a million, Baby. By the way, weren’t hankies supposed to be in the package? Or am I confused again?
Tuesday afternoon (yesterday), I received a letter from Ed explaining that he couldn't make it because he couldn't get a pass. He was disappointed, too, of course, but he asked me to meet him in London on the 17th, which I'm making every preparation to do. But I told you all about that in yesterday's V-mail. Today I got a bright idea and wrote again (I wrote yesterday) to Izzy telling him of my plans for the 17th and asking him to try to join us. If all goes “according to plan,” we'll have a regular reunion. Nothing else of note has happened since I got back, except that I had gobs and gobs of chocolate ice-cream yesterday. And when I say gobs and gobs—I guess you know that's a lot.
I haven't yet answered your “longie” of 8 Jan. in the manner it deserves, but I will tomorrow. Your V-mail of 25 Jan. (can you imagine?) arrived this afternoon and I was delighted to learn that Jack N. finally got around to see you. Hope you had a swell time that night, Honey. I'm eagerly awaiting your letter(s) telling me all about it.
It’s now after eleven, and the boys want to know “What the hell you writin’—a book?” So—I guess it's time to call it a day. Hasta manana, carissima mia— kiss my daughter (you oughta see my chest swell whenever I write it) for me, her ever-lovin’ daddy. My love to all. I am just as always,
Your adoring hubby,
Phil
February 9, 1944
Dear Phil,
How are you? I received your letter of January thirtieth and as usual was very glad to hear from you. Those cards you sent me some time ago are certainly going to come in handy. In history, we are going to study about some of the historical scenes in England, Ireland, France, and many others so I will be able to take them in for optional work. Boy! Do we have some queer teachers over at Olney. One teacher, instead of teaching England, she walks around singing “Pistol Tootin’ Momma.” I have a nifty Math and Bookkeeping teacher, but our history and biology teachers are miserable. Do you remember Kitty Kallen? The one who used to live around here and her father has a barbershop at Eighth and Louden? Well, she used to sing with Jimmy Dorsey and she and Bob Eberle were a team until recently when Kitty decided to go on her own and sing with Bing Crosby. It looks like Logan is getting classy, huh? That's about all the news for now, but as soon as something pops up, I'll try to beat Eve to it.
On file today are yours of Jan. 26 and v-mail of Jan. 30. I don't usually write v-mail either, unless there is little to write—or a little time to write. I do have quite a bit to say: First: Richy Leiberman is now definitely in England and you may contact him with the address I sent you. He said he visited a town called Hampton or something like that, according to Lena. Secondly; Dot, Snuff and Harold have promised to visit me this Sunday and stay for dinner. We ought to have a grand time watching the kids. They're so funny, especially when they are together. Thirdly; we had a nice v-mail from Jack S. and he hopes there will be two Cpls. in the family shortly: Fourthly; my mom got your letter and will reply shortly. Thanks for the compliment, baby. Consider yourself soundly kissed. I'm just as happy as you are to know Red is back with the company and on the road to complete recovery. Give him my best, will you, sweet.
I've shopped for a coat, having time when in town recently. I haven't found anything I could really go for. I've decided I'd rather have a gray color, and if I can't get what I want this season (reduced), I'll wait til next season when I'll have a large selection to pick from at regular prices. The only reason I write of my desires isn't 'cause I want to hurt you in any way or your position as “provider,” but to tell you of my plans or desires. Don't worry, dearest, if I want something badly, I'll get it. Mickey liked her fascinator immensely. I’ve completed half of the back of Mom’s sweater and it's coming along nicely.
I might say that Adele is sleeping more soundly these nights, and consequently, I'm feeling rested. When I sleep straight through the night, no matter how little sleep I may have, I feel rested. I can't stand the constant interruptions. They kill me. I'm happy to say that my appetite is better and I feel generally more healthy and well. In fact, I've almost decided not to get the vitamin pills except that they will do me no harm and if you can get them for me, I'll buy them.
I'll give you an idea of what I did today. Arose at 7:30, fed Adele breakfast (I usually wash her and bring her down in her sleepers) consisting of orange juice, prunes, cereal (finally got her to eat it), a soft boiled egg and as much milk as she'll drink, usually a half glass. I had breakfast; half a grapefruit, glass of milk, two slices of toast and butter. Clean up the kitchen. Dress Adele and get dressed myself. Washed floor in our room, also general cleaning. Went to 11th St. to shop for Mom. Cleaned downstairs, folded and put away clothes my mom washed last night, pressed. Adele had lunch of squash, beets, veg. with lamb, apricot and apple sauce and a glass of milk. Yesterday, she had her first lamb chop and liked it. When she particularly likes a food, she rubs her chest, “ah good manner.” She runs all over the place and makes everyone nervous. She's up the stairs, in the kitchen, trying to pull out all the pots and pans, in the dining room closet to rub her nose in the fur of whatever coats may be hanging there, opens the doors of the secretary and makes a good mess, turns the dials of the radio, opens the doors of the buffet and almost catches her fingers, shoves the walker all over the place and bangs into whatever stops it and I could go on and on. I want her to get used to walking about in the house for when the warmer weather sets in she’ll want to walk about outside. If she falls in the house, she doesn't hurt or bruise herself as she would outdoors. She darn near yanked all of Mom’s hair out today. She also likes to open tied bows, etc. She gets bashful at times, and when she does, she opens her mouth to its utmost and it sticks for a moment. When very excited, she makes a shrill drawn out laugh-like sound that is very pleasant to the ear. At 5:15 she had a dinner of chicken noodle soup (slice of bread soaked in), cup of junket and glass of milk. When bathing her (usually daily), I place a blanket on the bathroom floor and all items necessary for her toilet on it. I sit her on the blanket, undress her with her cooperation and bathe her in the tub. I place a small blanket on the base of the tub which prevents her from sliding all over the place. I soap her from head to foot, lay her down (her head resting on my arm) (I'm on my knees) to get the soap out of her hair. Back to the blanket. Dried, powdered and dressed. I sort of set her hair, rock, her a bit and flop her into bed. Then, after cleaning up, polishing Adele’s shoes, I either do the dishes (very seldom in the evening as they are usually finished when I am), and go right to work on my correspondence. Tonight, I took time to come out my hair thoroughly as I had set it last night and hadn't had time to comb it properly. Must write to Jack S. and Syd now, so I'll close with my deepest love and a long lingering hugs and kisses for you, my sweet.
Your Eve
February 8, 1944
Dearest Darling,
This V-mail is in the way of being a temporary expedient. At the moment, I have eight pages of the “London” letter finished, but so far I've covered only the first day. I figure it'll take at least eight more pages, but rather than keep you waiting for it and I don't have the time to complete it, tonight I decided to throw in this V-mail as a “filler.” You will learn from the letter that Ed was unable to get a pass, and the long-awaited reunion didn't come off after all. However, I have good news to make up for the bad. Today I received Ed’s letter explaining why he couldn't meet me and asking if I could get a pass on the 17th. I showed his letter to the 1st Sgt. and he said O.K. This time I hope we make it. I'm flat broke (for a change) and I'll have to borrow to “finance” this pass, but there are times when one has no alternative and this is one of them. In this case, money “cuts no ice” whatever. I also managed, during the afternoon, to knock out a few lines to I. Gutkin. Of course, I wasted no time at all sending off a letter to Ed telling him that the date was “on” again. Please forgive the scantiness of my messages lately, Sweet, but I know you'll understand why it had to be so. I'll do my best to complete the “London letter” tomorrow. Goodnight for now— my darling. Kiss Adele for me and give my love to all.
Ever,
Your Phil
February 8, 1944
Dear Ev,
Received your swell letters today and sure got a great kick out of the self-patting little princess.
Your observations on the Ev Phil Jack letter situation are wrong in that I have no compunctions about your reading first, what I write to Phil or vice versa, except in rare instances, and then I can't exactly say why. Perhaps that's what you said when you said “I don't think it right.” Then you're right, I'm wrong in saying you're wrong. Oh hell! Let's do as you suggested, and skip it. Sorry, I started it.
I've just finished a letter to Phil in which I thanked him for the swell V-mail personally printed Happy Birthday, Jack.
Ev, you must forgive me for not remembering yours orPhil's birthday. Without feeling egotistical, just matter of fact, I know by my feelings for you that I'm held in your esteem. Why then, shouldn't I bother to remember that which is so important? The only excuse I have to offer is this. My mind is not, as yours and Phil’s arranged neatly. It seems I allow too many things to occupy it at the same time and never discard or rearrange thoughts that gather there so that I may have room for important details. Is Phil’s Mar. 16? What's yours?
Gee, I was sorry to hear your last pictures were disappointing, film being so elusive these days, to say nothing of the green lucre.
With me, there is nothing new. I'm sitting tight and learning the meaning of patience, the hard way.
About Adeline it's this way. She answered my letter the first night that came along after the day she received it (Same day.) Stupid wasting all these words. This, she did because in her words, “I wasn't able to think of a solitary excuse for not writing that very same night.”
Someday, I shall show you her letters and I'm certain you'll be amazed at the similarity in phrasing and asides between her letters and Phil’s. Need I say more as to how delightfully, she writes.
As to her feelings for me, I evidently haven't aroused them. But by her questions as to how this and that is turning out and the obvious inference that I let her know, it makes me feel she isn't in the other extreme, disinterested. Let's say she's passive, and if I know anything should remain so to all the boys til this is over. Quien sabe? Maybe I will be the lucky one.
About her being or going to be your closest friend, it warmed me to know you feel that way, and so it shall be.
Well, if I remembered how I closed that last or next to last letter, I might try to do as well now, but I can't remember it so I'll just say g’bye now and my love to you all. How's Goldie?
Y¢ours of 28 Jan. is in my files—no comment. She says “baby” distinctly and I'm happy to report she's fully trained. Today, for instance, she didn't wet a single pair of panties. Of course, she may still have accidents, but she definitely asked to go. I managed to get two more sets of underwear (without sleeves) and clasps. I paid 85¢ for the first set and didn't know how cheap I was getting them. Remember I said 85¢ cents was a lot? Well, these two sets cost $1.25 each. The set I bought on Marshall St. is heavier weight and has sleeves, so it's worth $1.29. I now have four sets and I hope it will be enough. I'm not using diapers anymore and she can wear two pairs of panties a day—if she doesn't wet them. I can't use the playpen anymore—it's practically a total wreck. Adele tears up pieces of the floor and damn near choked on it. She walks around all day and no stone is left unturned. Every door, every drawer, every piece of dirt, paper and whatnot fails to escape her attention. She's a little terror—yeh man! She likes to push and pull chairs around. Gloria wrote to me and asked me for a request for something for your birthday. Please tell me of several choices as I have an idea there will be a few. Glo bought a $5.00 bond. Harry and Goldie bought a $2.25 bond with some money Harry won on the horses. Time to go. I love you baby.
Your Eve
February 7, 1944
Dear Brother-in-Law Phil:
It's been a long time since I seen you, so I thought I would drop you a line to let you know what's what. How are you? Do you like London? How are the “limeys” treating you? Everything is pretty good around here and we're just making the best of it. I'm doing pretty good in my studies and play a few sports. In reply to your term “short pants,” I'll have you know I'm 5'10-1/2" and weigh 150 lbs. I’ll bet your surprised. But you see I played second team football in school and although it was strenuous, I managed to put on plenty of weight. I only weighed 141 when I first went out, so you can see the improvement. I played center. I now have in my collection a second team baseball and football letter, and by this summer I hope to acquire a varsity track and baseball letter. By the way, do you indulge in any sports “over there”? If so, what? I am now in 11B so you see how time flies. You are very lucky to have such a swell daughter, and she certainly is full of hell. She has a good bag of tricks and unless you are on the lookout she will spring it and catch you by surprise. Whenever I see her, if I bend down, she tries to grab my glasses and certainly keeps me on the go to stop her from getting them. Another trick she boasts is waving to everybody who passes by while she's standing on the ledge on the porch. We are still unfortunate to have the “old hen” around, but I never let her bother me. Did you meet my brother yet? If so, how does he look? Did he grow any taller? I might also ask the same of you “schrimp.” I'm getting pretty snappy these days and really look sharp. Do the English “beauties” come up to any of the standards set by our “lovelies.” By the way, have you had the great fortune to see some of those famous Hollywood stars we hear about so much who are going abroad to entertain fellows like you? If so, who? I have just completed a letter to Ed and I'm also sending one off to J. Strongin and Co. Have you had the opportunity of meeting some old friends you knew back in Philly? Do you hear many popular songs? If not, next time I write, if you request, I will send you a list. Also, if you cannot follow sports and would like to, I could summarize it for you each time I write. I guess the old stove has burned up all the fuel so there is nothing else but to sign off.
With the Best of Luck, Jack “shortpants”
February 7, 1944
Dear Phil,
How are you? My mom received your letter and she intends to answer it in the very near future. We went back to school last Thursday. I found the teachers very much harder than the ones I had at Cooke, but as long as you do your work you get a passing mark. I don't like the school at all because it is like a dungeon with its brown woodwork. I do like the idea of the boys and girls eating together instead of having two small lunchrooms for each. At first, I wasn't with any of my friends, but just by sheer luck, one of my close girlfriends got my lunch and then a couple of classes I have with other friends. Don't forget to write to me. l
Loads of love, Your Sister Ruth
February 7, 1944
Dear Phil,
How are you? We were sure glad to hear from you. Everything is fine here. I'm trying to get the whole family to write you. I feel we have neglected you somewhat. I will write more often to you in the near future. Before I go on, I just got to mention Adele. She is the cutest, gorgeous and smartest kid in the whole world. And what personality. She could steal any beauty contest. I carry her picture with me and everyone I show it to says she's beautiful. I’d do anything in the world for her.
I've been running around with a few girls lately and expect to go steady with one shortly. It's getting close to June and I will have to go in the service. I want to ask your opinion on this. My boyfriend and I want to enlist in the Navy a week before my birthday. You think this is the proper thing to do or should we wait to be drafted? I'm afraid they will put me in the Army if I am. So instead of taking this chance, I thought it best to enlist in something I like. Pop is finally going to take a different job. This will probably go down as the eighth wonder of the world. It's a daytime job and pays pretty good for a start. I am making out very well in my job. I would have gotten a six month deferment, but they cut out deferment for all fellows between 18 and 21. If the Boss could prove that the place would close up if I left, then I could get one.
How are you doing? Are you working hard? I went to the movies with Judy the other night and in the news they show American troops on parade in London. We thought maybe you were in it. Oh! Yes, that picture you sent was a real piperue. Everybody's crazy about it. Well, that's all I can think of at the moment.
As always, Your Brother, Seymour
February 7, 1944
Dear Phil:
First, before I forget, don't forget that request. Do you need razor blades or shoe laces? I want to get everything ready so I can mail it out as soon as I get your request.
Evie sent me a picture of the baby. She really is the most beautiful child I have ever seen, including my own.
I want to get in touch with Evie and visit her this Sunday with the baby and Snuff. By the way, he still hasn't heard anything.
Harold walks since he is 10 mo. old and says a few words. He does pick up things very fast and he certainly does his daddy and mommy proud.
I don't know exactly how long it will take, but I'm mailing out your birthday card this week. By the way, my cousin Jack’s (in England) wife gave birth to a girl two weeks ago. He promised to look you up. He's stationed in the Post Office.
Didn't have the opportunity to post the letter yesterday, as you will note.
I received the two towels (all white, large and very nice) I ordered with my coupons. Mom received another form to fill out regarding her allotment from you. I'm sending it off today.
Adele had me up all night (the night before last), and yesterday, I felt weary all day long. I managed to finish with my pressing and a few minor duties and lay down to nap with Adele. However, for the first time since she was born, Adele went straight through a whole day sans nap. At this time, Milt (who has managed to get home every weekend since being stationed at Camp Pickett), called to ask if we wouldn't get him some liquor on our books (it's rationed, you know.) I had just about dressed Adele (I was still not properly attired) when in walked Milt, Tante and Miriam. Miriam's twin brother, was home on a two day leave from overseas and she came home from Florida to see him. She looks swell, better than I ever remember. At any rate, and to make a long story short, Mom, Adele and I spent the day at the Browns. I hurriedly dressed, readied Adele, threw the few necessities I need when traveling with Adele into a bag, plus three pairs of my shoes that needed lifts (the brown, dubonnet and copper). I acquired a bottle of Four Roses (the fellow asked me—“you’re past 21, aren't you” and I couldn't help laughing. I had left Adele in the car with Tant and Miriam. She played nicely but suddenly (I guess she missed a familiar face) she started to cry lustily. She all but threw herself into my arms as I got into the car and hugged me tightly. Then we went shopping on Marshall Street and I bought Adele a set of underwear (a shirt with sleeves and panties that button on all around). They had size 2 or 4. I didn't want the four as I knew it would be much too large, so I settled for the two at a cost of $1.29. I can't button the panties unless I pull a bit. They fit (skin tight) and are neat as a pin. Hereafter, I'll buy larger sizes. As long as she wears it the rest of the winter, I'll feel that I got my money's worth. That's a lot of money for a set of underwear. In the same store, I bought sleepers— scarcer than diamonds. What's more, they have rubber buttons, and elastic backs. The sleepers are baby blue flannel with a colorful rabbit printed on a pocket. The pocket is on the left side of the chest. They cost $1.49 and I could not get an extra pair of pants to button on, as is the customary practice when buying sleepers. I also bought a pair for Dot’s baby. Adele had a grand time honking the horn, steering the car, etc., etc. Milt got a big kick out of her. Milt had put Adele’s walker in the truck and it came in handy at Tant’s. We let Adele play with a kitten—poor kitten. She insisted on turning the kitten's face so that it looked straight at her. Sylvia was also there for dinner. Adele discovered a little stuffed black and white dog, which was once Bea’s, and now it's hers. Tant gave her a box of Nestle's chocolate and a jar of blackberry jelly. That's the first time Adele had chocolate milk. She drank every drop.
Tant managed to get two white metal Venetian blinds (royal blue bands) for the living room and a stunning pair of blue satin drapes ($17). Unc put an inlaid linoleum in the store at a cost of $100. It really makes the store. After dinner Adele, who hadn't slept a wink all day, got cranky. I took her upstairs, rocked and sang to her til she fell asleep. I put her on the large bed and put chairs all about the sides. About 8 P.M. we were ready to leave. I merely wrapped Adele in a large automobile blanket and got into the car. She awoke, but stayed still. Unc gave her a dollar as it was the first time she visited them. She took it and held on to it. She had some milk as soon as we got home and went right back to sleep. Phil, someday we must get a car. There is nothing that compares with it when it comes to children. It's a necessity in transporting a child, it teaches him a lot as he sees things, lots of things he wouldn't see ordinarily.
I gave my dad your three suits to wear to work. I thought they'd serve their purpose that way, if you don't mind.
Baby, Sunday does funny things to me—a terrific wave of nostalgia hits me full force in the morning. I lay back in bed and dream of past Sundays when I curled up close to you. God what I wouldn’t do to curl up to you now!
Adele almost said “baby” today. She tries very hard to say everything. For instance—when she wants a piece of bread she'll say—“ba.” Ethel, Al, Paul and Mickey were over today. They made their usual fuss over Adele.
I inquired about Halvah on Marshall Street. It only comes in 6 lb. packages. I'll get 2 or 3 lbs. and send it along if you like.
Oh darling, I'm so hungry for you. If I could only hold you to me a little while! I’d better go now, before I melt away—
I love you, Phil darling—
Your Eve
P.S. Ruth is trying to get me a decent pen. Milt promised to take my typewriter to a shop situated across the street of their store the next time he comes in.
P.P.S. Forgot to enclose Jack's letter as I mentioned in a previous letter. Here it is.
Hans Crescent Club
February 6, 1944
Sweetheart,
This is my second night in London—and I have just about given up hope that Ed will put in an appearance. Needless to say, I'm deeply disappointed. The only thing that could have happened, as I see it—is that he failed to get a pass. Certainly 15 or 16 days is time enough for him to get my message. However, I had foreseen the possibility that he wouldn't make it—so I instructed him to look for my message at the info. desk. In this manner, I was able to leave the club without the fear of missing him. I made perfectly sure in my notes that he would know where to look for me anytime at all during the day. But, apparently, it was all for nothing. I haven't given up hope of arranging a meeting, yet, though. You can bet I'll keep trying.
I'm sorry, Sweet, that I was unable to write on both the 4th and 5th, but circumstances made it unavoidable, as you shall soon see. Perhaps this “longie” [I hope] will serve to compensate you somewhat for the two letters I didn't write. You see, Honey, on the evening of the 4th, I was so busy getting everything ready for the trip that I'm didn't allow for anything else. I had to shine my shoes, run around to borrow hankies and underwear because my last two week’s laundry never came back and a dozen other trifling details that consumed the evening. As for the 5th, I'll come to that presently. Anyhow, I arrived in London yesterday about 5 P.M. It was a clear, sunny day, and looked and felt almost like Spring. The countryside, viewed from the train window was very pretty and I enjoyed the ride—for a change. This trip, the train was right on time (unbelievable—but true). I wasted no time at all, you can bet, heading for the Hans Crescent, and, I was almost afraid to hope—Eddie. You can appreciate my chagrin, then, when on arriving there and inquiring at the desk, I learned that Eddie had not checked in. I hung about hopefully for awhile, but as I was very hungry, I decided to leave a note for Ed, should he come, and go to the Eagle Club for supper. Almost the first person I saw when I strolled into the lounge at the Eagle was “Junior” Crossman! Remember that tintype I sent you a while back that you disliked so much? Well, “Junior” is the tall, good-looking Canadian-American on my right hand. He's a nice kid, no foolin’, and I think he was as glad to see me—as I was to see him. He told me that “Streamer,” the other guy on that tintype, was hurt while on manuevers. Well, Chippie, we “chewed the fat” for a while and then, discovering that neither of us had eaten supper, and the Eagle being overfull, we decided to look for a place to eat. We found a cozy little place called “Chicken Inn” in Haymarket. We dined very satisfactorily on hamburger steak with onions, boiled potatoes and cabbage. For dessert, the menu said “creamed caramel.” Alas, it didn't nearly live up to the picture suggested by the name. It tasted like nothing at all—and was I disappointed. Supper over, we wandered out into the street—and the mob, and when I say mob, I speak as a cosmopolite who has had experience with crowds in New York and good ole Philly. In the last named places, the pedestrians at least gave the motor traffic the privilege of using the streets. Over here, they're not that magnanimous. The poor taxi drivers are forced to crawl along behind the pedestrians at snail’s-pace. They don't even dare blow their horns in protest. And what a mob! A civilian (any sex) is a rare, almost extinct creature. If you want to see the United Nations, Chippie, come to London. Oh, darling, if you only could! Where was I? Oh yes, we were “drifting with the tide,” as it were, when we noticed we were just outside the Leicester Sq. Theatre, where Olson and Johnson are starting their run in “Crazy House.” Junior was all for dragging me in. I insisted on “Phantom of the Opera” at the Odeon—or ”As Thousands Cheer” at the Empire. Junior is easy to get along with, so we walked? on, etc., etc. until we came to the Odeon. Well, Chippie, we took one look at the queue, did a prompt about-face and pushed our way across the street to the Empire. Same thing! (only more so); honestly, Chippie, that was the longest line I ever saw. It was fully a hundred yards and four rows deep. All at once the comparatively “unbusy” Leicester Square Theatre seemed a very nice place to be. And that's how come we saw “Crazy House.” It's the usual Olsen and Johnson slap-stick. Very funny in spots and very unfunny in others. In between there is some pretty good music and “production numbers.” Not a complete flop—just fair entertainment—and better than nothing at all, if’n you know what I mean. After the show, we parted company, as Junior had to be back in quarters. I don't have to tell you where I went. You guessed it! Just like a homing p-i-g-e-o-n, (no d, Chippie) I headed for the ever-lovin’ Turkish Baths. From then, until I was “tucked in” about two hours later, it was a repetition of all the other times. The fellow in the bunk next to mine turned out to be a communist and something of a philosopher, and, like most communists, nothing would do but that he expound his philosophies to me. Luckily, I wasn't a bit sleepy, so I listened patiently and attentively while he discoursed for fully half an hour. When, at the end of that time, he paused to take a breath—I began. His smug convictions rather irritated me, and consequently, I determined to pick his pet theories to pieces if I could, and I had detected dozens of flaws in his logic as he rambled on, so I had plenty to work with. Lady, you should have heard me for the next half-hour, it would have made you proud—I even surprised myself! I proceeded to take the essence of his theories, and slowly, surely, uncontestedly, and irrevocably—tore it all to hell. So irrefutable was my logic, that the dazed and disillusioned “commy” could only lie and stare. Long after I had ceased talking, he was still trying fervently and concentratedly to find the answers to my arguments. When I fell asleep, he hadn't yet found them. I have to laugh now when I think of it. I don't know if you see the humorous side of the little episode, but it certainly tickled me. This morning my “friend” lost no time in starting the conversation again, but he painstakingly stayed clear of theorizing and philosophizing. We talked of our respective families and our work. When we got around to the latter, I discovered that he used to be an importer of costume jewelry from America. This immediately brought to mind those “zircon” pieces you were asking about in your “longie” of 8 Jan. I told him of your request and he convinced me that I was a fool for trying, or even thinking of buying anything of the sort here in England. The prices, if you could find the stuff in the first place, are roughly five times what it would be in the States. Besides, there is 100% purchase tax on “luxury” items of this type. So, Baby, I guess you'll just have to bide your time until I get home to go shopping with you. All out of paper, now, Honey, and it's too late to get more 'cause the info. desk where I got this is closed, so I'll say so long for the time being. I’ll continue tomorrow. G’night, Sweet,—I love you.
February 5, 1944—through 8th
Dear Phil,
I certainly got one big kick out of receiving your V-mailed birthday greeting. Thanks a lot.
This looks rather odd, skipping a whole line between lines. However, I feel I must do something to atone for the near legibility of my train written letter you should have received long ago. About that, I must comment in passing. Like I read to Ev, I had no intention of sending it to you via her. Why, I can't exactly say because the reason won't come to my conscious mind, but remains vaguely in my subconscious thinking gear. Perhaps you can bring the matter to light for me. Will you try in your next?
And now to answer your letter I skipped because I was anxious to get off the one about my visit to your loved ones. Incidentally, wanting to get it off as soon as possible, and not wanting to wait until I got your address from Ev (which I thought I had all along) is the reason I sent it to Ev first.
While I was there, I read about your furlough which “now they gave it to you” and about your eye, “the roving one” and I sure do think Evelyn is among the most fortunate of wives of “ponded” servicemen. Not alone for how endeared you are to each other, but for the fact she has a husband who if he hasn't mastered the use of the written word has come so near doing so that only the severest and most learned of critics can discern what little lack there might be to perfection. Through your letter, you come as close to her as it is humanly possible under the circumstances.
When you said to me that my position was more likely not permanent in relation to the army you scored a possible. (Incidentally, I was one of the four in my whole company who did likewise with an M-1 when we had to zero our rifles at 300 yds. and hit five silhouettes in the shimmering snow starting at the first, which was 100 yds. distant and progressing to the fifth, which was 500 yds. away. Not bad, eh? I used only 5 bullets and approximately 40 seconds.) I'm not doing photography anymore. My company officers deigned to sever themselves as much as officially possible from the Engineers board with whom I was doing said photography, which left me with my company, severed.
Now, I am one of the boys, and it's not too bad, especially since I'm looking forward to being transferred to a photographic assignment such as I outlined to you that night I rode with you to the bus depot in New York. I expect it to come through because of the seeming sincerity of the important office working girl I saw at the Eng. Corps office. On my account, she's called Washington several times. This last, when I was there, she learned my transfer was in progress and told me so. Here's hoping.
It was very interesting to learn of your “sexual status,” especially since I see how utterly different is that of the married men here. Unless it's just braggadocio, fully 85% of them “get it here” in Colorado.
Now I'm about to resume after a three day lapse between “Dear Phil” and the above “Now.” I took a trip to Colorado Springs. It's a beautiful city and its natural wonders are many. Next trip I shall see the wonders. This trip I saw a lot of dancing, wide clean avenues of modern businesses and beautiful homes, the one synagogue during Sunday services, after which a Jewish meal was served, and a delightfully soft bed in a sparkling clean, if not up-to-date, hotel room. The $2.00 charge seemed ridiculously cheap, but who am I to worry about the $3 more I would gladly have paid the owner had I known how nice it would be.
We departed at 9:00 P.M. Phil, it's impossible to describe the feeling that awes as you as through the speeding auto window you see majestic snow capped mountains as they rise gloriously from white covered plains. Their shapes are moon silhouettes, each a seeming fantasy in black and white. The ribbon of white that centers the winding road is easily discernible, sans headlights, so bright the night.
The distance of 160 miles, the last 18 of which were snow and ice, was covered in three hours because traffic is nil. The Springs thermometer never read below fifty. The Hale, fifty below. No, I'm kidding (about that night) it was only 18 below zero.
I’ve received Mail from Evvie. Suffice it to say that each of her letters (beautifully written, too), and yours tends to make me more aware of the rarity that is our friendship. In it (the friendship or this letter) she asks, and I quote, “How have you fared in your correspondence with Adeline? Do you realize, Jack, that the girl you marry will be my closest friend, as close (in friendship—ed.) as you and Phil? I can't help wondering about “her,” the future Mrs. N.”
I'm sure it wasn't necessary, but I couldn't resist the parenthesized observation. Just as I couldn't resist saying “about 12,000 feet.” after I'd written someone, “I shared a bottle on the bus back to Camp Hale from Denver and got to feeling high,
