Year: 1939

2/24/39

Camden, NJ

Martha:

This won’t be a very satisfactory answer to your precious letter, but I want to get it in the mail.  Then you can answer this and my letters of the 21^st, 22^nd & 23^rd in one fell swoop.

Straight mail’s too slow.  I nearly called you last night to be sure nothing was wrong, but talked myself out of it.

Letter from John yesterday helped out.  Apparently he was much surprised & pleased.  Will see him next week-end probably.

Please use the enclosure on all letters. When you run out let me know.

Still happy at the RCA, and I believe they like me.

Don’t laugh, they think I’m quiet & untalkative.  More later, precious.  Your picture is a great help.  I wouldn’t live without it, but I miss your companionship & help more than I thought I could.

Love, your lil’ Cy.

(The greenstuff grows on trees out here.  Take you and Mary to a show or sumfin.  Order, not a request, hi.  Cy.)

 

2/25/39

Camden, NJ

Darling:

Please don’t take this letter too seriously, but there will be a certain amount of truth to it.

First, when I get something from 506 I expect more than a chain letter. (I’m keeping the other half).

Second, chain letters are one thing which I cannot stand.  Probably you have never thought about it, but here is what happens.  One person writes five letters.  Each recipient is puzzled and writes five more.  In this particular type of letter, one is apparently not required to do more than just write the five letters.   Assuming that it takes one day for each person involved to receive and write the necessary five letters.  At the end of a week’s time, 19,500 people will have been involved.  Out of 19,500 people it is perfectly normal for a Mrs. Greenfield to receive $3000 and a Mrs. Ambrose to receive $499.  In other words, if you give him a 1 to 20,000 chance, you can always safely “Trust in God who supplies all needs.”

Precious baby girl, why do you have to fall for a line like this the minute I get out of town.  If you did “trust in God”, you wouldn’t have to or want to write chain letters about it.  That’s one place where you aren’t being yourself.  Please, honey, I’m not much, but try to trust in me for your material needs and in God for spiritual things.  Don’t trust in something of your Mother’s and Ma-in-laws level of intellect.

I suppose I’m mean to write this way, but I don’t want that old inferiority complex of ours to come up again.  We’re apart and both terribly lonesome, but we’re in better shape than we’ve been in for years, and I want us to stay that way.

Just a couple of more points and I shall try to get to more pleasant subjects.

When you married Bill, you were blindly hoping that something would come of it.  “He hasn’t always been a soda-jerker,” and “he has a lot of business contacts on the West Coast,” are two things you said about him which have stuck with me.  So, you poor kid, getting back into your old rut, you said, “to hell with everything—what have I got to lose?  I’m not good enough to be an engineer’s, a doctor’s or a lawyer’s wife.”  All you lost, fortunately, was two years’ time.  But you darned near lost your youth, your health, all of your material possessions, and most important—your self-respect and your friends.   In plain words, you damn near lost everything, all this because you trusted in everyone else, but not in your own better judgment.  Your judgment is damn good—stick to it.  I need it.

To draw another example, your Mother has been running around most of her life trusting in “luck”.  But she has never been able to trust her own judgment because she hasn’t the guts to make a decision and stick to it.

Oh, precious, it isn’t like you at all and it does worry me.  The biggest thing that we accomplished in the last year is a mutual respect for our combined abilities and enough faith in them not to have to hope we will be lucky.  Baby girl, we can’t go on asking favors of “luck” and “God”.  We’ve had too much good fortune already.  We’ve absolutely to work for our future happiness.

Darling, this is mean of me but I can’t help it.  I feel like bawling like a baby.  If you’re going to slip back to that old place of yours, I’m tempted to quit and come back there where I can be near you.

Precious, let me make you a proposition.  If I last out here and show promise of advancement, how about going ahead sometime next fall or winter?  I could finish up the degree in the Univ. of Pa. night school in Philly in about 3 years.  Martha dear, I can’t help being a little strong on this subject because I’m terribly worried.  Please write to me and assure me I’m nuts.  Air mail will do.  Special won’t reach me any quicker.  But also please let us not have to go into this again.  I wish you hadn’t sent one to Johny, because he will honestly doubt your sanity and worry even more than I.  The entire business stinks so much of Mrs. J.E. Willis that it is repulsive to me.  To put it bluntly, it is a lot of equine excretis.

Baby girl, I love you so much that I don’t even act rationally about everything you do.  I didn’t think it was possible for me to be this way.  But I can’t help it, and I hope that you can find time over the week-end for a good ol’ “Martha” letter, like the one I got yesterday.  This one should get there tomorrow, but don’t let it spoil your day.  Just swallow what’s in it and let’s forget all about it.

Ok—let’s start all over.

My lil’ hop-scotch:

Thanks for your letter of yesterday and today.  I’m glad you got mine and hope that you could read them.  How are the folks doing?  I haven’t heard from them yet.  I had to buy a desk calendar and some other junk today.  I hope pay day arrives soon and I hope we get paid twice a month.  (We better, hi).

I’m going to miss you most on week-ends.  I feel lost without my darling girl, but I guess I can stand it for a while.  I’m going to walk over to Philly for lunch today.  Will mail this letter then.  No typewriter or the rest of my clothes yet.  The office is beautifully illuminated and terribly clean.  It’s wonderful, darling.  The engineers lay out everything on paper, another department builds it, and then the designing engineer makes it operate properly.  Must close, honey chile.  Please don’t think I’ve been too harsh but I do love you so, so much.

Tell any of the gang who are getting impatient over no letters that they will have to wait for the mill to get here.

P.S. In case you haven’t guessed it by the number of letters, I adore you.

P.S. #2—Hell!  I hate to quit writing to you almost as much as I hate go home when I’m with you.

The general consensus of opinion is that now that the RCA has accepted me, I am a “made” man.  I hope so.  It does indicate that I am not a technician, but a full-fledged engineer.  But I’ve got to have a beautiful wife to clinch the deal.  How’s about it, eh?  Gotta quit but I can’t.

Your letter yesterday sounded just like you & was terribly sweet.  Tell Bill & Andy that there’s enough money around here to justify opening a branch of Moody’s in Philly or Camden.  I need a little specialized secretarial advice, if you know what I mean.

Well, I’ve got an hour to get over to Philly.  Shall hit Wanamakers for the tie rack if I can find the place.

Love and how, your lil boy Cy.

2/27/39

Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.

Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.

Yippee!  I’ve my mill!  Now I can write to my honey.  It has been terrible these last few days, not being able to write her, but I did manage to get off a few scribbles.  Hey, this isn’t the way to start a letter!  Let’s begin all over.

 Camden, NJ

Martha Darling:

            Of all good things that can happen to a man, the best by far is to receive a letter from his wife*.  Honestly, I would have gone crazy without it, and I’m so darned happy now that I’m crazy with it.  And then to have the typewriter and the laundry and two letters from the folks come on top of it was almost too much.  Wheeee!

First, I’m terribly relieved to hear that you didn’t take my letter about the chain letter to heart.  I didn’t think that you would, but you are a little upset now, and I wasn’t quite sure how it would hit you.  Well, that’s all over with by now.  You’ve probably gotten half a dozen more letters from that crazy boy-friend of yours by now which probably have explained things a little.  Honestly, all he can remember doing in the past week is eat and write letters to his baby girl.  But he couldn’t help it, that was as near as he could come to talking to her.

Just guessing, but isn’t it about time for Helen Barr Kellog to have a baby or something?  All the rest of our friends seem to be.

Boy, is Tommy lucky.  Kick her in the appropriate place for me and wish her all the luck in the world.  (If you get her job, kiss her for me in the best approved fashion).  Hit that shorthand, Honey, it will be worth it.  I’m having a dirty job of the Fourier analysis, but I guess it’s worth it.

Tell Bill that one of the books is in the bookcase just to the left of his desk in my room, and the other is probably down in the dining room in his rats nest there.  I don’t need them immediately, but I may if the work progresses.  Your shipping clerk (do you have one) can probably fix it up for you.  Insure them for five bucks each, and let me know what the postage amounts to.

I’m glad to hear that Wayne approves of me.  His warning is rather a sensible one, much as I hate to admit it.

It was sweet of you to take Mother to the show.  It probably helped straighten her out a little to be with someone else who might (?) be missing me a little (?)—p.s. am I modest.  You will probably have to fill my boots with Chucky, but don’t let the family know it.  They might resent it for a while at least.  They used to feel badly about the position Cousin Blenda** had with me.  The situation is comparable.

So Doris and Cliff think I’m nuts.  Ask them how they felt the first time they were forced to be apart for six months or so.  Of course, I can vaguely see why half a million letters might look like someone was a little off in the upper story.

Nice going on the rainy-day savings.  Speaking of which, we are supposed to get paid on the first and fifteenth, and generally are, except when we get paid sooner.  So the dope mentioned in my letter of yesterday probably goes through.

Darling, you can’t imagine how thankful I am that I have a girl who isn’t selfish.  All right, little girl, if you want that school in one piece, I’ll get it that way.  And I’ll try to get it as soon as possible.  That is the most sensible way, but you’ve waited so long that I didn’t want to ask you to put up with any more from me.  I shall work on JEF*** as soon as possible.  I shall not write to him until I can make a definite statement.  This will be about next pay-day.  Your offer to let me work on my master’s after we’re married is most welcome and fine.  It is something that most girls wouldn’t even consider.  With your push and brains and my love of such junk, you’ll be Mrs. “Dr.” Stafford yet.  It is a worthwhile aim, both in respect and financially.

Your remark about twisting my hair came appropriately.

Last night, after supper, I studied until about 9:30 and then went out for a brisk hour’s walk.  It rained all day, but the moon shown through while I was out walking.  A moon has never meant a thing to me before, but realizing that my baby might possibly be looking at the same old disc made me feel just a little closer to you.

Today, I did ok.  The group seem to be satisfied with what little work I have done.  Apparently they are taking on men, but only men who have RCA experience and loads of it.  The group are fine to me, and apparently I am supposed to know my onions.  I caught a rather bad mistake today, and everyone was very grateful.  The Coast Guard—ups, slipped—wouldn’t like it if it went into production. (I guess I can tell my wife—don’t let it go any farther, although it wouldn’t make much difference).  Maybe I’ll be worth my salary someday.  Right now, I feel like I am.  The next thing is to convince them.

When I got home tonight, I found the stuff—typewriter & laundry—mentioned before.  I read your letter and re-read it and had a swell time.  Then, realizing that I was going to get paid on the 15^th as well as the 1^st, I went out and bought a typing table.  I like it better than J.H.’s****, as it has no bracing between the legs.  I don’t have to straddle it, and there is plenty of room underneath for these big feet of mine.  Also, it is lighter but stronger.  Price, $5, was too much.  But I imagine it will be worth it.

For your information, I am keeping copies of these letters on the mill.  They are on white paper and are filed in your “Marty” file.  This is just in case you have to dump your copies overboard in a hurry.  If you do, I will have duplicates for you.

I can’t get over it.  It isn’t yet six o’clock, and yet I have been home, back to town, set up this table, uncrated a typewriter, and written a long letter.  This business of getting out at four is certainly the nuts.

I think I shall be a bad boy tonight and ditch the studying and take a trip over to Philly.  I am supposed to meet Allan Howell over there tomorrow at 4:30, and I want to find the place and how to get there as I shan’t have much time tomorrow.  Maybe I can sneak in a couple of hours anyhow.  I reviewed one chapter and did some problems over the week-end.  I have about six more chapters to review and about that many more to study from scratch.  If I can handle it, I should finish this book in less than a month.  Then I shall probably start on that course in which I made the “condition” last year, so that I can make an effort to pass it off whenever I get back in school.  It isn’t difficult, just boring.  If I don’t go back to school next fall, I shall probably have to enroll in a course here under the RCA on receiver design.  It should be a good course if I take it.

Glad to hear that Chas. Sr. is out of the picture.  I’ve often wondered if he would drift back—it would be just like him, and just like Nena to swallow the same old line.*****

Well, Darling, your boy-friend is getting just a little hungry.  In fact, I’m starved.  So I suppose I had better close this and get going.  Maybe some day we will get things straightened so that our letters don’t cross, but what difference does it make?  I’ll probably just go on spouting off whenever I get in the mood.  Maybe I can exercise a little restraint later so that it won’t look quite so bad.

Love, but still from your “best friend’ plus: xxxx

Your lil’ boy Cy

*Even though Marty was not yet divorced, Cy begins to routinely refer to her as his wife and often refers to himself as her husband from this point in time.

**Blenda Fast, John Fast’s wife and cousins to the Stafford family

*** John E. Fast

****Johny Huntoon’s

*****I’m not sure what this comment specifically refers to.  My father recalls that he visited his father and Aunt Sissy in Louisville a few times between 1928 and 1934, but then did not go back again until about 1944.  There may have been very little communication between his divorced parents during that time.  My father was not given the news when his grandmother died in 1935 or when his granddad died in 1937.  His father did marry again in 1936.  His wife was Gertrude Graef, (my Grandma Gert), and they had one daughter in 1946, my aunt Mary Gayle.