1939 - WW II Love Story, Letters from Buddy

1939 January 25 On the Road Again

Author’s note: The previous letter in August was the only correspondence to bridge the seven month span from June to January. After completing his third year at Purdue, John Fast refused to continue financing Cy’s education. He started work for Wells-Gardner and did not return to school in the fall. He would have been living with his parents near Chicago and would have been able to see Marty on a regular basis, so there was no correspondence.

Buddy and Marty have fallen for each other and have put their cards on the table. Those cards include the fact that Marty is separated from her husband, but not divorced. Buddy cannot support them by being a student and he wants to be out of debt and saving money. They can’t have a very public relationship because Marty is still married. Cy’s letters are vague as to the type of work he’s doing, but it involve some air travel, probably as a consultant. Of some note, in December 1938, Frank Sinatra made the scandal sheets by being arrested and charged with the seduction of a married woman under promise of marriage. I believe it was the very real fear of this sort of charge that was behind the secrecy referred to in Buddy’s letters and his concern of creating any paper-trail of their true relationship.

On the world stage, in October 1938, Germany occupied the Sudetenland, and in November came “Kristallnacht”, a nationwide attack on German Jews, their synagogues, and their businesses, resulting in at least 91 killed.

In late 1938, German scientists split the first uranium atom. Enrico Fermi, an Italian physicist fled Italy on January 9, 1939, and took a post at Columbia University. On January 25th, his team split the first uranium atom in the United States.

In January 1939, once feared and respected, Mob leader Al Capone was transferred from Alcatraz Island to the Federal Correctional Institution on Terminal Island, near Los Angeles, California, because of deteriorating health due to an advanced case of syphilis. (From Wikipedia).

On January 27, in an attempt to better the British Royal Navy, Hitler gives the approval for Plan Z. The plan was a five year project aimed at expanding the Nazi German navy fleet by 1944.

There are no specific details, but in later letters, Cy refers to the December 31, 1938 New Year’s Eve celebration as one where he got quite drunk and was very despondent about not being able to go home with Marty.

1/25/39 Original Correspondence (transcription follows)

1/25/39 Transcription:

Miami Beach, FL
Dear Baby Girl:
I can truly say “I wish you were here.”
The trip down here was not so good. We made about six stops and had rough air all the way. Further, Eastern Air Lines does not serve supper. I got a ham sandwich at Indianapolis. The damn meat was spoiled so it started to bounce on the second bite. I lost it in Louisville, Ky. I then padded my tummy with tomato juice which bounced in Jacksonville, Fla. After that I gave up.

After a bath and breakfast, I piled into bed and slept until noon. Then I had the local manager of Mr. Davis’ store drive me over to his house. It is a beaut, although the furnishings are in very poor taste. I found that about everything had been done wrong as I expected but managed to smile through it. I made faces at myself in the mirror for ten minutes after I got back to the hotel. I shall move in on Davis tomorrow as it is about an hours’ work to get over to the island from here.
Talked to Cheshires* and Ropkes in Louisville last night and to Jack** over in Baton Rouge tonight. If I get my glasses here in time, I shall probably stop off in Louisville and have my optics checked. Cheshires want me to spend the night.
This is truly a land of “ilk and money.” Palm trees adorn the gutters and everywhere are lazy natives, basking in the sunlight. In accordance with the Chamber of Commerce ruling, even the termites are courteous. They say “Good morning, I’m so sorry,” when they so much as nibble at one’s wooden leg.
I shall be healthy when I leave this place. I had fresh strawberries for breakfast. For supper, I ate in a rather novel establishment. When you first enter, you walk past a large table covered with sand. On it are crawling millions of salt water shrimp. A waitress immediately attaches itself to you. If you want shrimp cocktail, you point out the shrimps you desire. She grabs them. If you don’t want shrimp, it is alright, for the next table is covered with tomato plants bearing fruit, the next a pineapple tree, etc. After we passed the appetizer row, we started on the vegetables. The customer picks his own beans or corn or spinach or whatever he desires. I took spinach. By this time, I was having great fun. When we came to the meat dishes, I was stumped. I hated to do it, but I wanted Lamb Chop so there was no alternative. I point out one which looked good and they dragged it bleating to the slaughter. The drinks were handled in a like manner. In the milk stall were a number of cows. Some had blue ribbons around their necks, so I asked my buck-toothed waitress what difference the ribbons made. She said the one with the blue ribbons gave buttermilk.

No, honey, I haven’t had a thing to drink since Monday night.

When I realize what a fine time we could have together, I see how much the past months have meant to me. You appear to represent the satisfactory conclusion of many old dreams and the driving force of many new ones. You are more essential to my well-being than I have ever permitted anything or anyone else to be. The fact that I can’t reach out and touch you is depressing, but the realization that I shall see you soon again relieves the situation.
Well, my eyes hurt, so I shall go out and buy oranges or whatever tourists do on their evenings alone.
Love, Cy

*The Cheshires were the family that Cy’s sister Emma lived with in Louisville for some time, helping to care for their daughter.

**”Jack” refers to Cy’s sister Emma, who apparently was in Baton Rouge at this time.

1/31/39 Miami Beach, FL

Post Card to Marty (living in Wheaton, IL at this time)

Martha:

The girls are having a delicious time on our vacation we wish you were here. We haven’t time to even write postcards so you will have to be content with a verbal story the latter part of this week. Love from all, Grace*

*I believe this is Grace Duffy, a friend of Marty and Cy’s.

2/1/39 Miami Beach, FL

Post Card to Marty

Honey Child & Stuff:

Looks like vacation is about over. Will probably do all the things we haven’t yet done tomorrow. Will stop to see Cousin Sue in Louisville and spend Friday with an opthamologist (?). Fly out of Louisville in P.M. and arrive Friday evening about 10:45 at Municipal Airport if they have dug it out of snow by then. Temperature here about 70 degrees F. I miss you & Brother Rat John. Love from your Gracie

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1939 February 12 My Funny Valentine

2/12/39

Martha Dear:

It’s not much, but it is the first of many Valentine’s I hope to be able to send to you.

With engineering, math and science

I’ve always had a close alliance

Travel and writing, and history too,

Are listed among the things I do.

There’s only one problem, I now discover

That I can’t solve: That of the lover

Who wants to say, “I love you darling”

In a better way.

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1939 February 13 No Fear of the Future

2/13/39

(Monday night. About 10:00 P.M.)

Darling:

You were a very brave little girl and I do appreciate it. I’ve got that smile of yours tucked away where it must last me for some time.

Sat out in observation car and read the “Newsweek” and the “New Yorker” for some time. I suppose we are someplace in dear old Indiana now.

Johny can say what he pleases about advances in railroading. The noise in here is louder than the engine roar in a plane, and the vibration makes writing almost impossible. In addition to this, the check valve in the radiator is popping off. As for room, if one doesn’t get boffed off trying to navigate, one may walk to the observation car, but the tortuous passage has many hazards.

Baby girl, I miss you a great deal, but somehow I don’t have any fear of the future. We have gone through a period of almost unbearable self restraint. We have made most of our more conservative friends love and respect us. And most of all, we have regained our own self respect. Looking back from last April, I may have to blush a little. But looking forward from that time, I can safely say that we have every right to be proud. Never have I tackled a more complex situation and been able to handle it as well.

Perhaps the only explanation that I can offer is that I haven’t had to face my problems alone. Time years ago, when my life tempo was much slower, I could take my time making a decision, and usually made them rather well. After a while, the number of decisions increased, and I got behind schedule. I then relied on snap judgment, which I inherently got wrong fifty percent of the time. You know the things that that got me into. But recently I have had the rare privilege of consulting with one whose ultimate interests were co-incident with mine and whose integrity was above question. As a result I have been spared a million serious mistakes. I’ve frequently heard that what counted was “what a man did with his experiences, and not what they did to him.” I see the wisdom of this statement now. On this basis, with our mutually broad background we should get along famously in all respects.

We have at least four big jobs ahead of us, any of one of which is sufficient to swamp an average person. This means that two of us could be twice-swamped. But I’ve seen little evidence to indicate that either of us approached “average,” so I am not worried. Tonight is a climax to something most difficult. We have come through a great deal together and I feel that we can now over-ride any obstacle. Together, we apparently have the patience and the persistence necessary for conquest. I’m leaving my honey, but I’m getting closer to my wife. Well precious, let’s keep our eyes on the bright side while we work on the darker one.

I just doused the light and looked out. There was only one familiar item—an AIRWAYS MARKER BEACON. I guess I must be sold on slow travel.

If you can’t read this, I won’t take but half the blame. The rails are apparently made of hack saw blades, teeth upturned. The wheels must have about four flat spots each, and the engine has asthma. In addition, the coaches are coupled with rubber bands. The only difference between this and the C.A.B.E. is the distance to the whistle.

Well, Honey, don’t worry. I’m having a nice trip in spite of the Pullman Co. I’ll add to this in the morning. Nighty night. I’ll wait for you.

(Damn! They took up the rails along here and we’re rolling on the ties.)

CBS

P.S. I’m sleeping in gray p-j’s! you fished out for me!!!! What a coincidence—oh yeah.

Tuesday A.M. Precious:

I have just finished breakfast and I am full. Baked apple, milk, eggs (scrambled) and muffins did the trick.

You can rest in peace today as there are no beautiful women on board, and the “stewardesses” are male and a little dark.

I woke up this morning as we pulled into Pittsburgh—it is the most unpretty place I have ever seen. It even looks worse from the ground than from the air.

Historical photo of Bethlehem Steel in Pittsburgh

So far, I have seen no snow or ice. Just passed a stream with a bunch of wild ducks in it.

The night’s work-out apparently didn’t wear off any of the corners on this thing’s square wheels.

This is all mining country through here. For a while, even the soil was red. Don’t laugh, but it is the same coloring material, iron oxide, which is in your rouge and lipstick. We passed the Bethlehem Steel Works a while back. Also, and of more interest to you, we stopped at Johnstown, of flood fame. The Army Engineers Corps is working on the river in a couple of spots.

A few miles back we apparently passed out of the mining section, and it now looks more like the rolling hills of Maryland. If I stay out here, I have a lot of hiking to do. Well, Darling, I shall stop until more of interest passes. I’m going to write Bob Burke a letter and see if I can persuade him to hit some of the steel companies here for a job. Steel was his major at Purdue. Then would have only you to bring East. By-bye, baby girl.

11 A.M. What a dull trip. Next time I’ll walk. I think I shall close this and Air Mail it to the office, possibly from Harrisburg. Watch that cold, kitten, and take care of yourself.

Better get those books from Bill and hold them until I get settled. They are: A.C. Theory: Bryant & Correll; Principles of Direct Current (or something) Timbie & Bush

Lots of love, darling, and will write more later.

Your guy. Cy

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1939 February 21 On Board with the RCA

Author’s note:

February 15, 1939: The German Kriegsmarine launches its largest Battleship ever, The Bismark.

On February 20, 1939, approximately 22,000 Nazi sympathizers gathered for the meeting of the German American Bund at Madison Square Garden. The group supported antisemitism, anticommunism and U.S. isolationism.

The German American Bund at Madison Square Garden 2.20.39

By February of 1939, Buddy has secured employment as a radio engineer at the RCA in Camden, NJ.

1930’s photo of 500 block of Cooper Street, about four blocks from his boarding house

2/21/39

919 Cooper St., Camden, NJ

Martha Darling:

I hope you got Cliff’s telegram and wrote to me. The last 24 hours have been lonely ones.

Am I apparently lucky. I called the Y and they said they had one room which they would save for me. When I got there, they said they didn’t have any but one, which they were saving for a fellow who had called from “Trenton” a few minutes before. I had called from North Philly, and taken a cab over. They misunderstood the name and didn’t suspect anything because I arrived too quickly. After glancing at the place, I decided to leave well enough alone and asked for addresses of private homes near the RCA. He gave me about a half dozen and roughly sketched their locations. He was a very nice person and let me leave my bag at the Y.

I picked one in the middle of the list, found it, didn’t like the outside but rang the doorbell anyhow. After several attempts, I gave up. Just as I was several houses away, an old man came to the door and I went back. His wife was out but would be back in 5 minutes. I waited, against my better judgment.

To cut it short, here I am in the first house. It is neat & clean inside. The room is 3^rd floor. In addition to a rug and a ceiling, it has a bed, dresser, desk, 2 chairs, lamp, window, and closet and hold your shirt, sweetheart, only $4 per week with linen and towels furnished! When you see that, you can see why I didn’t look farther. The rest of the rooms listed from $6-$12 per week. I would like a private bath but I don’t feel that it is justified or necessary yet.

The family consists of Mrs. Elizabeth Brooks, about Mother’s age, and her husband, about 10 years older. Her daughter, Margaret Hanah, is a nice specimen about Nena’s age and teaches in the junior high school (math & Engl.). (I wouldn’t stand a chance, so you needn’t worry.) The only other roomer works for the local newspaper. I haven’t yet met him. He has a second floor room. There is another room on this floor which may someday be filled (at $5), but I hope not. At present, it is so quiet the clock sounds like a riveting machine.

After arranging for the room, I went out and called Aiken’s. Doc was out, so I thanked Mrs. Aiken in his place. She says to drop in whenever I can, as they are not far off. Afterwards, I saw “Topper takes a trip” which is good. Mebbe you and Mary can do something about it. Then I ate a good supper for 35 cents! About $1.00 per day will probably do the trick.

With supper to fortify me, I called John. Boy, was he happy. Apparently dizzy spells nil. The first thing he said when I told him the set-up was “Oh, you’re bringing the gal out about next fall, uh?” I think he kinda likes the idea of our being together. Tell his folks that he sounded well and happy.

All indications are for darned short hours at the RCA. I hope so, but I’m not counting on it.

Pardon the pencil, but the pen went dry. If things go alright tomorrow, I shall have the typewriter by next week, and then I will write letters like I did long ago. I shall go out to mail these and buy some ink then come back and take a bath. Mrs. Brooks says ok on milk for breakfast and a 200 watt lamp at 75 cents a month. This is about right. I may have to raise the ante if her bill jumps too high. Being on the third & top floor, I may put in a small rig with which to qso* Johny. We should be able to make the 200 miles or so with low power. But that will come much later. Also you might rescue my logbook from Huntoon. It’s on J.H.’s desk, “LOG W9KWP”, a grey cloth covered loose-leaf ledger. Hold it with books Conklin has.

It’s getting late dear, so nighty night. I’ve been away from you for over a day, but we’re also one day nearer to seeing each other again.

I’ll probably write again tomorrow. Then, unless something comes up, I won’t write until you’ve answered my tomorrow’s letter. Then we will avoid crossing.

With as much love as a pencil & paper can convey.

*A conversation between two radio amateurs.

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1939 February 22 Welcome to Camden

Editor’s note: One of the hit songs of 1939 was the haunting and sobering song by Billie Holiday, “Strange Fruit”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs

2/22/39

Camden, N.J.

Haw, Haw, Haw: I’m at it again.

Just a line, sweetheart, to tell you that I’ve got it framed again and in its proper place. It’s been out of circulation for 3 years, but never again. Sure, I’m crazy—and proud of it. I feel better already, and it’s only been there for two minutes by the clock.

My trunk is located and will be delivered tomorrow—at $4.65 plus express charges. If I’d used my head & traveled straight PRR, instead of C & N.W., I would have had this. The former allows 300 lbs & the latter only 150. Oh, well, so what—I have my picture again.

Having gone out to town, a total of 12 blocks per trip, some six times in the last 5 hours, I shall not make another trip to mail this. I’ll get it on the way to work.

I’ll bet you’ll be glad when the typewriter gets here so you can read these in a reasonable amount of time. Maybe I’m just getting used to it, but my writing does seem to be improving.

More love, and supply not anywhere near exhausted.

P.S. I’ve got my picture!!!

P.S. #2 Goody—Whee.

2/22/39 4:30 P.M.

Darling:

To put it bluntly, I’m so damn lonesome it hurts. You probably also are, because we’re both spoiled brats, and talking won’t help us any. So let’s drop the subject before I do get blue.

I feel this afternoon like Cinderella must have felt at 11:50. Everything has been too grand, and something drastic must happen soon.

When I awoke, I found it cold, windy, and snowed on. The wind made me feel at home, and helped a little, except that you weren’t there to dig the bricks out of my eyes. I ate and then found the employment office. After signing away my life, I was sent to the dispensary for a physical. Incidentally, I have some sort of group insurance which I should have signed to you but thought more judicious to drop on Dad. That’s one thing I hope I can do in the next four months, because you haven’t much to fall back on upon. The Doc found me healthy and my eyes 20/20, which is average. Then I reported to Mr. Gunther. Everyone showed much surprise that I hadn’t worked for the company before. It seems that I started a little (not much) above the bottom brackets. Gunther is a group head and Salby is head of the project upon which I am working. As suggested, I am working on Government equipment, behind locked doors. Everyone is nice to me, and haven’t heard a single complaint about the company.

Well precious girl, that isn’t but half of it. First, I start at 8:00 and finish at 4:00, with an hour for lunch. Second, there is no Saturday work. And third, it takes the signature of two vice-presidents before a man can work overtime. It all adds up to a 35 hour week! This is 1.98 cents/minute against 1.3 cents/min. at Scott and 1 cent/min. at Wells-Gardner. But I’ve been stung so frequently that I can’t help being a little afraid that my bubble will burst. My first job paid 0.192 cents/min, or less than a tenth of my present wage. That’s a ten times increase in 7 years. And if these hours are straight, I could study some at night and yet have plenty of time for my darling.

I called Railway Express about my trunk about half an hour ago, and they said they would call back if they couldn’t get it over here tonight. I guess, and hope, it will arrive. The bed sleeps well here, so I shall have the folks send out the typewriter. I have a bunch of letters to write and it certainly will expedite matters.

Darling, this is the first time, with one exception, that I have ever written like this to a girl without making a copy. This is one time I certainly have stuck my neck out, but I love you and trust you so that doesn’t worry me in the least. Another question which has been frequently asked is “married?” I don’t know yet whether it is considered good or bad to be so attached.

Although the RCA’s technique of design is more engineering and less experimental than the ones to which I have become accustomed, I feel that I shall be able to handle the work. It will mean a lot of extra study though.

Oh, oh! A wedding just drove past.

I miss you in so many ways, Honey. No one to squeeze me, no one to yelp at me for twisting my hair, no one of whom to ask advice. If we could live on $135/month, I wouldn’t have so many compunctions about not finishing school until later. In two years we could save $1100, which would take us through one year of school nicely. If we can do it any other way, it would be desirable, but it wouldn’t be hopeless this way. I’d rather spend the $1100 on something blonde, if you get what I mean. If my initial estimate is correct, and if I don’t get sick or fired, I should be able to save $25/week. Allowing 2 weeks to build up my cash balance, just $50, I could finish off J.E.F.* by the end of April. By the middle of September, I would have $400. Then, if John would agree to it, I could finish school, go $150 in the hole and work for 6 months. At the same wage and savings rate, I would have paid back the $150 and saved another $500. Then I wouldn’t be afraid to go ahead.

They may be pipe dreams, sweetheart, but so was Purdue and working for RCA, and they came true (although I’m not yet indispensable).

RCA Nipper Building Headquarters, Camden, NJ.

If anyone asks, I am working on “special applications” and that is all that you know.

Don’t forget to see your boyfriend Webb, and let me know how it turns out.

If I couldn’t write to you, I would go nuts, but I shall try not to write until you answer this one. Please state that you are answering mine of the 22^nd. It’s nearly six and time for supper.

Good night, little girl. Love Cy.

*”J.E.F.” are the initials for John Fast, who was a cousin to Buddy’s father. He owned the John E. Fast Condenser Company. He and his wife had no children and had always been very fond of Buddy. They saw Buddy’s potential and knew his family did not have a lot of money, so they had helped finance Buddy’s first three years at Purdue. According to my father, there was something of a falling out and Mr. Fast refused to help him in his last year. The cause of this change of heart is unknown. Cy made comments about drinking too much and letting his grades slip. Did Fast not approve of Cy’s relationship with Margaret or Marty? Perhaps Fast wanted Cy to work for him after graduation and Cy didn’t want to commit to that. In any event, it was obviously important to Buddy to repay Mr. Fast whatever he felt he owed him.

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