Year: 1939

5/11/39  Original letter:

My Precious Little Wife:  –Hi Toots!

Gee, I feel better!   That was the most enjoyable four minutes I’ve spent for years.*  [In the left margin is a drawing of a sad face], “Me—an hour ago.”

When I got your letter, I was simultaneously struck with chills, rheumatism of the brain, and a combination of palsy and St. Vitus dance.  Outside of these minor symptoms, I had more serious complications.  The waste-basket is now full of letters which I am glad I didn’t send.  I knew that if I talked to you for a minute or so it would all be straightened out.  It’s all straightened out, and we scarcely mentioned dates.

Well, precious, I wouldn’t feel very well about it, even with my best friends, for they have all shown a tendency towards more than a fraternal interest in you, hi.  So just charge it up to your selfish husband, and forget it for a while.  Beware of wolves—even not in sheep’s clothing—about the first of next month.  Hi, Andy!

The RCA is going to make money tomorrow, for it will be the day after the first night’s sleep I’ve had in years.  You were so pleasantly surprised and so much fun to talk with.

For Pete’s sake!  I didn’t tell you I love you!  Boy, I’ll have to get up on my toes if I expect to keep a swell girl like you—and never talk anything but shop.  But you knew what I meant when I called you, so I won’t call you back tonight.

As for our plans—and I didn’t say your’s—the set-up is as follows.  First, I want you to clean up your little situation there without help if you can, for I know that it will help the old complex.  But don’t forget that I am ready and willing to pitch in when I am able.  But I don’t want you to get all upset emotionally by trying to continue this unnatural arrangement of ours, for too long.  Second, I have $133 left to pay JEF.  I shall put $40 in savings and the same in payment to him per month.  In 1 ½ months I shall have enough in savings to pay off the balance, which I shall then do if the coast looks clear.  Then it is $80 per month away until fall clothes—new suit and topcoat—make a dent into things.  But if we don’t have too much from 323 Wis.,** we can probably swing things our way by next year.  I’ll know by then how permanent my job is.  With this schedule, if we can swing a job for you anytime after Sept. 1, it should be safe to move you out.

Big plans, darling, but I love you and must make and keep them.  God knows how, but we can at least try.  I’ve accomplished a couple of “impossibles” already.  Thanks for giving me a new grip on life with your little “I love you” tonight.  [Drawing of happy face in left margin], “Me now”

The one & only, loving you.  Cy.

P.S. My vaca forget it.

*They talked on the phone.

**Cy is referring to his parents by their address.

5/12/39
Darling:
I should never write letters before supper, because I always feel so tired about then. But if I don’t, you won’t get them until a day late, and that isn’t desirable.
I slept like a rock last night, and have felt keen all day today. It is going to be very worthwhile to have you here. It is a long haul, sweetheart, but a worthwhile one.
Yesterday brought a letter from Don Davis in reply to one I sent him a week ago. While in Miami, he asked me how his company could be sure of the radios they were buying without going to the expense of a complete lab, and I suggested that he employ a consulting engineer when such things arose. I recently sent him Aiken’s address and a pep talk, although I doubt if anything will come of it for the Doc. Davis says his set is yet getting along fine with no complaints at all.
I have one of those nice, long, bleak week-ends staring me in the face. We didn’t get paid today, so I shan’t be able to send you your money until Monday. Unless I change my mind, I am going to buy about 25 bucks worth of light summer suit next Saturday. Have you any preference as to material? It will be gray. I understand Palm Beach isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. How’s about some information? Wish you were here.

Gee, Darling, I must love you. I yet get a thrill out of your voice although I’ve heard it millions of times.
It’s about time to quit, as my eyes hurt and I have to write to JEF and tell him no soap this month. Frankly, I don’t relish the job, and I am inclined to just say nothing. But that isn’t what is expected of me. Darling, don’t ever let me get in debt again. It isn’t the interest that I pay in money, but the interest I pay in worry that makes it too expensive.
Well, Toots, good-night. Just to keep our stories straight, if you should ever be asked why I called last night, it was to get some information on how my folks were getting along. The recent loan to Dad and Nena’s change in plans (which haven’t gotten to me yet) will make it seem plausible.
Love from your husband, Cy.

5/13/39

Martha Darling:

Saturday, and I am writing to you.

Your letter was very flattering.  So you enjoyed the phone call!  Gee, I’m glad you did.  I think it was much more satisfactory than the other one, for neither one of us knew about it until it happened (not even I, for I didn’t think of it until a couple of hours before I called, and didn’t decide to do it until ten minutes previous to the call) and we were not so tense or choked up.  It’s hell to hear your voice and not be able to hold your little head close to me and whisper things to you, but it isn’t half as bad as the hell of not being any closer to you than your letters.  God knows what I would do without them, but they are horribly inadequate.

See, Darling, everyone thinks you get more beautiful every day that passes.  When your mother breaks down and says so, it must be the truth—it couldn’t be flattery from that source.  Honey, watch that front until everything is clear.  I don’t think she is trying anything fancy, but she may be just waiting until you inadvertently say something that might put the skids under your suit.

I don’t quite see through our grand little mess yet, but there are two things certain.  The first is that we will have to watch our expenditures like hawks so that we always live considerably under our income, and the other is that we are going to have to get together damned soon.  But right now, we are trying to plan a little bit too far ahead, for we have no real knowledge of what the situation will be next fall.  Let’s leave it that we are going to bring you out here once—and keep you here when you arrive.  It may mean we can get married when you arrive, and it may be that we will just keep you here while you are looking for a job.  Precious, I’m so damned lost without you that I don’t amount to a hill of beans.  I need someone to jack me up and build a fire under me once in a while.  You seem to be the only person left that I think enough of to pay any attention to in such matters.

Half of the week-end is gone.  Gee, how time drags.  Seconds and minutes and hours and days and months—and we still have a long haul left.  I never dreamed that I could love anyone that much.  I almost wish I could work double time so that it would pass twice as rapidly.

I sat around and talked to the grandmothers until late last night.  Then I wasted most of the morning, spend half of the afternoon in the rain in Philadelphia, and slept the other half.  I got up about seven this evening, dined on tomato juice, Ritz crackers, and cheese, and read “Listen, the Wind,” by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.  After finishing the book, Nana fed me a ham sandwich and a glass of orange punch.  In spite of all of the hard liquor and beer I have consumed, I yet like lemonade and orangeade as well as anything.

I’ll bet Marge (schoolteach) is getting tired of hearing about you.  I talk about you incessantly.  She told me a couple of evenings ago that if you weren’t half angel and half genius, she was going to be disappointed.

Darling, I just looked in the mirror, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are marrying a complete nitwit.  I never did look very purty, but if you could see me now, with my feet wrapped around the mill, my hair mussed, and my glasses on the end of my nose, you would probably wonder just what was wrong with you that day on the Lakefront when you said ok.  I wouldn’t swear to it, but wasn’t this just one year later, this week-end?

It’s getting late and I’m catching the sniffles.  I shall leave this in the mill and finish in the morning.

Payday is presumably on Monday, and I shall try to send you five then and five on Tuesday.  I hate to send cash through the mail, but that seems the best plan at present.

Sunday AM

I’ve been weaving my pants back together for the past hour, before which I shaved and washed, and it isn’t even nine o’clock yet.  I may have to study in desperation, for I haven’t any books around that I haven’t read, and it will be a long time before I can go to the show.  Horace Heidt is on the stage and the picture is another Hardy family mess.  I doubt if I shall stay for it, for I don’t like smart-aleck Rooney too much.

Lots of love, Cy.

5/15/39
YIPPEE!
I can’t get over it. Everything went swell at work today, and I found three letters at home—none of them with bad news. It is entirely unprecedented. There were letters from John and Mother, and both of them did a good job for a change.
Mom says she enjoyed the hanky a lot, but enjoys you a lot more. What do you do to people to make them love you like they do?
JH is stepping out finally, and it looks like my thought that his reticence in the past was chiefly due to local reputation was correct.
I didn’t do much yesterday, just studied a little and a few things like that. I went out and bought a pint of milk which I drank just before I went to bed.
There is one sentence in your letter which is terribly important. “. . . we mustn’t do anything foolish and make a flop of it.” Darling, with that attitude, you make of yourself an asset rather than a liability. That expresses better than anything else the reason why I am not afraid of the future if I have you. No, precious, I’ve broken even on a couple of ventures, but I haven’t made a flop of things ever. And I don’t intend to start making failures with you.
No news from the Good Housekeeping. Darn it all, I’m getting impatient, but I’m afraid to write and ask them yet. I shall write to them when a month has passed, if I haven’t heard from them. Since it is a Hearst magazine, I wouldn’t be too surprised if they just rejected it and didn’t bother to return the manuscript or even write. No news is good news, but I hope I hear from them before I go screwy.
Nena’s new job sounds ok. I got a letter from her today, which I shall decode sometime tonight.
Well, Toots girl, let me know when you receive the enclosure, for I don’t like this method of sending it and I want to be sure that you get it. More in a separate envelope tomorrow.
Love Cy.

5/16/39
Martha:
Your letter was well worded and I’m proud of it. That damned mess from Mrs. K* was enough to turn the stomach of a horse, and the bribe** which she enclosed was not only in poor taste, but was downright insulting. In all of the reading I have done, I have never seen anything that reflected such a complete lack of character and such blubbering meaningless sentimentality. I hope to heaven we can soon forget her and her tribe.
I take it that Burns has filed the suit.*** Does he know when the hearing will be? If suit is filed, WPK has probably been notified by now. Is he going to contest it?
Continue to give Burns all of the dope as it develops.

Yes, Mother is quite content—more than just content—to consider you as her daughter. For some years she has impressed me with the necessity of a well-organized wedding, and I have always said that I would get married on the spur of the moment and tell her afterward. Actually, that is the last thing I would do, but it has been great sport teasing her. Gee, she takes a terrible beating from me.
I shall try to get a double-breasted suit, for I like them also. But since I haven’t even had a chance to window shop, I don’t know just what I shall get. I shall try to avoid the Palm Beach.
When noon arrived today, I was right in the middle of some measurements, so I didn’t take my lunch hour until 1. Then I got such good service in the restaurant that I had time to come home and read your letter before I went back to work.
I got up this morning ½ hour earlier and studied. I shall try to kick it up ½ hour per week until I am used to getting up at 5 and hitting the hay about 9. This will give me 2 hours of study time, during which there really isn’t much to do. This way, as in college, I am sure to study.
Lots of love, Cy.

P.S. Honey, I will put enclosures in next letter (I’m charging it against your husband, hi).

*William Kennedy’s mother

**The appears to be a reference to some proposal made by William Kennedy’s mother in an effort to get Marty to change her mind about going ahead with the divorce.

***Burns is Marty’s divorce attorney.