1939 April 27 “Our first tough year is almost gone”

4/27/39

            Baby Girl:

Gee, that was a hell of a letter I wrote you yesterday afternoon!  After I ate my supper, I felt a lot better.

I shall write to Dr. Maynard of Brooklyn, whom the Aikens recommended to me, and try to make an appointment sometime in the next month.  Mrs. Aiken says to see him some Saturday morning and stop by Marthasville for the week-end on the way home.  This will kill two birds with one stone.

I bought the Aikens a couple of bucks worth of flowers the last time I was there, and they were well received.  Since Herman drove me up, I saved almost that much on train fare, so I about came out even.

Baby girl, I am going around in circles.  There is an awful lot for me to learn.  I positively must finish up that college education, for I am lost without some of the knowledge of the senior year.  Then it is essential that I get a master’s within the next ten years.

I want you rather terrifically, for a number of reasons.  I have only been here two months and I am tired of the entire set-up already.  If I had a normal home life with you, I wouldn’t reach this stage for a couple of years.  Last night was another awake most of the night.  It rather infuriates me.  When I can get a liberal supply of exercise, such does not occur from one month to the next.

The work today went a little better.  I studied last night but didn’t learn much.  I shall take another crack at it this evening if I get down to brass tacks before bedtime.

I am reading Guns of Burgoyne, a new historical novel.  Thus far, 38 pages, it has been most interesting.

Speaking of books, what is the name of the book that I bought in NYC last summer by Benchley?  Don’t laugh, but I think I have gone out and bought another copy of the same!  Darling, I need you for things like that too.

My last short story is the best by far of anything that I have attempted.  I am going to mail it Saturday to the Good Housekeeping.  Darling, pray for luck this trip, for the financial situation is going to be our biggest problem for the next couple of months.  I want to get both of us out of debt and a little ahead before we go ahead.

It all goes to show you.  I was going to be selfish tonight and only write you one page.  That’s why I just had to get up and get a second one.  And I’ll bet I have to get up and get a third one also.

The enclosed pamphlet will answer a lot of questions which people have been asking me for years.  It should be mildly interesting, since it is inside information on a new business.

These week-ends with the Aikens excite a most violent reaction in me.  Darling, the more I think of it, the more I realize that someday I shall have to have a place out in the country where I can work and not mess around with all the dirt and grime of city life.  That breaks down into making a profession of writing.  Perhaps I can work in consulting and engineering as Aiken does.  Precious, that should be an ideal situation if we can arrange it.  They are only 40 minutes from New York, and yet they are back in the mountains and have deer in their backyard in the winter!  Big dreams, precious, but if we hit the ball for the next ten years, we can make them come true.

Darling, and another thing.  I am through with this last story, and have been for a couple of days.  And yet it will be Saturday or next week before I send it to anyone.  It takes me so damn long to turn out perfect typing copy that by the time I finish the final draft, I am so tired of the story that I can’t even write letters to editors about it.  Gee, darling, you’re surely getting yourself into a tough job.

Why the heck should I think of it now.  Let’s go to a dance tonight.  I think that would be great sport.  Maybe we could have some fun between numbers too, although the weather is a little too chilly for moonlight strolls.

Betty, pet waitress where I eat, says to tell the girl out west that I looked nice tonight.  Dragged out the gray suit and summer ties.

Your clothes sound good.  Visions of that joint out in the Watchung Mountains pop up again.

The Watchung Mountains (a/k/a “The Blue Hills”) of New Jersey

Speaking of Betty, there was a quite a stir a couple of evenings back.  I thought I would die laughing.  The gang out the tea room have all adopted a material attitude towards me.  One of their steady customers was in a couple of evenings ago and had apparently never gotten a good look at the half-man-half-dog from Chicago.  This she proceeded to do, all unknown to me.  Betty, apparently knowing the girl quite well and there being very few people in, went over and gave her hell for trying to flirt with me, politely informing the kid that I was taken by a very cute girl from Chicago!  Well, precious, your interests are being looked out for even out here.

Gee, I knew I couldn’t stop at two pages.

Did you get to talk to the boy wonder at Hartford?*  Speaking of which, he bought a pair of gray suede crepe-soled shoes just before he came down here, and I gave him hell for it, telling him, as is true, that they are hot as hell in the summer.  The joker lies in the fact that I think I shall buy a pair for myself this Saturday, for they will last well, and will go with this gray suit.  When I get some wash suits this summer, they shall all be gray.  In spite of the old story that I look well in brown, the blue and the gray make me look more alive and less like a ghost.  Then the shoes will go with that also.  I shall probably forget white shoes, as I have a pair here which will do if the occasion is urgent, but aren’t worth cleaning up otherwise.

Nertz.  I have a short story that I want to write and an article on graphs.  Then on top of that, I have to mail this and don’t even know where to get stamps.  The weather looks good, and I hope you will get it sometime tomorrow.

Well, darling, I’m still waiting for you, and I hope that it doesn’t have to continue for too much longer.  You may have to put up with a lot of irregularity the first couple of years, but that is better than having to put up with that plus being apart.  At least, I think so.

Thank Maw Huntoon for the birthday card, and tell her I will write as soon as I get a chance.  It was really from the entire gang, so thank the bunch of them via Maw.  Incidentally, don’t mention that I suggested it, but in your big sisterly way, get JH* to do a little financial budgeting.  I’m afraid that maybe his lack of parental restraint on the finances may not do him much good after a while.  He should be able to save roughly $80 per month, minus payments on the car.  This allows him a liberal beer expense or what have you.

Goodnight, Baby.  Our first tough year is almost gone.  The next will be hard, but I doubt if it will be as hard as the first one was.

Love, your husband, Cy.

*Johny Huntoon

1939 May 5 “A slight touch. . . of melancholy”

5/5/39

EVERYTHING IS OK.  I JUST WANT TO BE SURE THAT YOU GET SOMETHING OVER THE WEEK-END IN CASE THOSE EARLIER LETTERS GOT LOST.

Darling Girl:

You should have had a couple of letters by the time you wrote your last one.  Well, perhaps now that summer is almost here the Airmail will get back on its feet.

Rather silly of me, but now that you mention it I might as well admit that I seem to be in the same boat.  I doubt seriously if the Doc will find anything wrong with me other than worry and a slight touch (not slight enough for comfort) of melancholy.  Well, precious, it won’t last forever, and someday we can look back at it and laugh.

I feel most flat just now.  The CG* sent a delegation of their bigshots up to look over the work up to date.  They looked, acted and talked like school kids, and not one of them knew from nothing.  Well, such is life.  Just as I think I have a gentleman’s job, I find I am working for nitwits.  Damn it, precious.  We have to get that last year of school.  Then at least I can rest assured that even if I work with nitwits and imbeciles that I am not one myself.  I’m awfully sick of saying that I didn’t finish and I’m going to etc.  Nobody believes it and it is most unpleasant.

Today has been grand.  The sun has been out and the weather warm.  Tomorrow, unless it rains, I shall spend the afternoon playing baseball.  If I can get enough of that this summer, I shall forget the tennis and save the cost of a new racket.

I studied last night and the night before until midnight.  I shall try to do the same tonight.

My concrete story came back from the American Boy** today.  I am unhappy about it for in reading it over, I see how lousy it is.  My other one, which only went to NYC, hasn’t come back yet.  That means that it has at least gotten past the first reader—or lost in the mail.  Well, honey, I’ll make something out of me yet—even if it does take me half a lifetime to do it.  I don’t want to see you get stuck with another lemon.  One was enough for my little girl to live through.

Maw Huntoon wrote me a nice letter today.  I shall answer this week-end.  Cooper invited me to an Open House of the Drama Club also, but I’m too far to attend a GE*** function.

Love, forever, and all of it.  Cy

*Coast Guard

**See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_American_Boy_(magazine)

***Glen Ellyn

1939 June 12 Swimming Lessons

6/12/39 #1

Honey:

This is going to be short for I have about three minutes before it is time to go to work.

Spent most of yesterday in swimming.  I got a gorgeous tan—which hasn’t blistered—yet.

Went to “Calling Doctor Kildare” yesterday evening.  It is also good, but not worth any particular effort to see.

Heard from JH and all is well—social duties preventing him from writing.  Imagine that!

How was the trip?

Time to go, sweetheart, so gumbye.

Cy

6/12/39 #2

Darling:

All week-end I felt that you were a little closer to me.  Maybe I’m crazy.

You should have had letters on Wednesday and Thursday, but I guess the P.O. slipped as usual.  In any case, you should have found last week’s letter at home tonight and the one I wrote this morning at the office on Tuesday.

I’m glad your trip was a success.  My week-end was pleasant, but nothing to brag about.  I walked about twenty miles on Saturday and swam for about three hours on Sunday.  The airport pool is only a couple of miles and makes a nice walk.  If I keep it up, you’ll have a tan on me to be proud of.  Everyone says I look healthy for a change.  Feel better too.

Toots, this is going to sound funny.  You can take it, Tsk, tsk! Or leave it, and in any case, please don’t be angry.  I’ve had a couple of dates this past week.  Now, take a deep breath and read the rest of it.  She is most uninterested in me for, among other things, she is the one who helped me pick out the frame for your picture and is well convinced that I have certain strong feelings towards one little girl out west.  I have a hunch that you will like her when you meet her, for she seems to be our kind of people.  The situation is thus.  She is going camping with the boyfriend and family the latter part of the summer, and she can’t swim.  There is a fair chance that this will make a very bad impression.  Point two, I want to teach you how to swim without drowning you in the process.  She (Helen Paetz is the name) knows this and volunteered to be the guinea pig!  Unbeknownst to her, I have checked with a couple of boyfriends of hers (whom she doesn’t know I know) and find that she is unapproachable from any and all angles.  She is about your size or smaller, dish-water blonde, and not very attractive.  Now Toots, here’s the problem.  It’s up to you.  Neither her heart nor mine will be broken either way you decide it.  It would keep me out of beer joints one night per week as she doesn’t imbibe.  I don’t think there is much danger of her getting any silly ideas for she knows full well how much I love you.  The purpose of the dates was to meet the family, see what kind of a neighborhood they lived in, and, in general, determine if they were the kind of friends I wanted to make for us.

Well, Darling, I feel like a rat for not telling you beforehand, but I felt that you would only worry if you had part of the story and not the entire story.  It wouldn’t cost me anything, for I shall go swimming most of the nights in the week anyhow.  It’s up to you.  If you feel inclined to check further, you might write to her and tell her how to keep me in hand (haw haw).  Well, Darling girl, I’ll take it or leave it as you say.  I shan’t be hurt either way you decide, but for God’s sake, don’t get worried  over it, for it isn’t that kind of a date.  (P.S.—if you’ve had any, which you probably haven’t, just forget to mention it, hi).

I have to go out and give my boy scouts hell tonight.  They were going hiking with me last Saturday and none of them showed up.  I’m going to tell them that only the best men in the troop were out, and they all had a good time.  This is true, for I hiked about 8 miles through the woods.  Darling, there are some beautiful homes around here if we can only make enough to get one of them.  They are within 15 minutes of Camden and 30 of  Philly with the one way bus fares being respectively 5 cents and 15 cents.

You’re lucky you aren’t here, Darling, for I have some buttons to be moved on the riding breeches.

I received an invitation from Al for a supper next Sunday.  I forgot that he was in the last throes of finishing up school (teaches English in high school).  This is why I haven’t heard from him.  He referred to the school closing as the “closing of the Bastille.”  I think you will like him, and his mother is just like mine would have been had she had as much money the past twenty years as she had the previous twenty.  His father is apparently dead and he has a little trouble with mother being afraid for her little boy.  One example is that he postponed a trip to Europe this summer because she was afraid of the war scare.

Tell Bill* his article was excellent and I shall answer his letter when things quiet down a little.

Gee, I wish you were here to enjoy this swell weather and the pool with me.  The water is as clean as the stuff you have to drink in Chicago.  You can see the bottom of the pool in the deep end with no trouble at all.

Tell Chucky to write to me.  I miss him more than I should.

Nana Brooks’ grandchildren, three McShane boys and Mary Lee (my little brunette sweetheart—5 yrs old) were here Sunday while I was away.  They left full instructions that they would be back next Sunday and that I am to be here.  When I answer the phone here, I always say “Brook’s residence, the butler speaking.”  It started as a joke when I knew who was calling one evening, but has been continued and is now expected.  The kids said I would get fired as the butler if I kept on taking my Sunday afternoons off without their permission.  Darling, I can see where we’re going to have trouble restraining certain primitive impulses, if you get what I mean.

I take it that a “default” in law as in athletics, one team not showing up and the other automatically winning, I certainly hope that is the case.  When that is over, precious, I shall be lost for a couple of days.  I won’t ever have anything so important to worry over again.

Don’t “ask” about the ring.  I haven’t figured it out myself.  But I know that I shall feel much more secure and happy when you have it on.  Lots of dumb people will not be so grabby around my darling when she has a ring on her correct finger.  Maybe I should get you a set of brass knuckles to match!  They might work where the ring didn’t, hi.

I’m sending JH a father’s day card, with a note to save it just in case.  I’ll bet he’ll murder me for it.  I trust that all of my past affairs have successfully blown over so that he can’t send it to me!  Oh me!!

Someplace in the schedule I have to figure a trip to Aiken’s soon.  I don’t want to lose track of them.

I suddenly realized why the job has been so tough.  With one or two exceptions, every piece of work that I have done has been a new bit of engineering to me.  In all of my experience, the things I have missed are exactly the ones I am getting now.  This is good, for it is rounding out my experience, but an awful headache.

In addition to the card to JH, I am sending one to Dad.  The verse I like a lot, so I shall quote it.  Maybe he’ll show it to you.

Have you ever had a day, Dad, When everything went right,

When every little worry, Was hidden out of sight?

When Good Luck seemed to guide you,  And bring the best your way?

Well, Dad, that’s how I’m hoping, You’ll find each future day.

And that applies to my little darling too and if I don’t run out and get some supper, you will find an invalid to nurse when you get here.  So stay the same sweetest girl in all the world, and everything else to make you happy.

Your husband, Cy

P.S. Mrs. Huntoon owes me a letter from about a month back.  She isn’t ill or anything is she?

P.S. XXXX all for you.

*Bill Conklin

1939 June 21 “Encouragement, but no debilitating direct aid”

Editor’s note:  On June 21, 1939, Lou Gehrig announced his retirement as a result of ALS.

6/21/39

I am sending the other copy of this to the office in case you don’t get the special tonight.  Better mail back the copy to keep your collection complete, as I have no third copy.

Darling:

I’m down to about four letter-heads, so I shall use this paper until I get some more.  I believe I shall get some with the name in a little lighter type, and also get some envelopes of the size that you use.  They will look a little better than the large ones I now have.

You’re right.  I can’t imagine life without you either.  Even when I was planning it with other girls, I was trying to make them over into you.  It just won’t work.  I must have you, and shall.

I haven’t heard yet from Nena, and Dad hasn’t answered my letter.  Mother gave me some information, as she expressed it, in case I couldn’t read Nena’s handwriting.  Precious, Nena broke her promise to me, and I am afraid that I don’t feel any future responsibility.  So I believe I shall just forget the whole business.  As for Chucky, he is a grand kid.  The best thing I can do for him is to treat him as John Fast treated me.  Offering him every encouragement, but no debilitating direct aid, will give him a chance to make something of himself if he cares to.  This is a bigger blow to him than he is admitting.  In spite of Nena’s propaganda pro Johny*, Chuck has never ceased to compare John to Dad, and that is an odious comparison.

It finally stopped raining here.  Today was cool and sunny.  Out there, it would have been classed as a cloudy day, but out here, it was bright and shiny.  I went swimming for a couple of hours right after work.  I can’t get anyone to go with me from the office yet, but they will when the weather gets a little warmer.

Maw** wrote me a nice letter which I received today.  Darling, if you ever want to blow off on a sympathetic shoulder, I think she loves you more than enough to provide the shoulder.  She’s another one of my friends who likes me more now that she knows you.  Gee, you’re a precious little thing.

Darling girl, I hope you telegraph me if you get any favorable action on the suit.  Incidentally, please let me know how much the phone bill was. I knew you would call, and I’ve been expecting it—one of us just had to break down.

You’re very precious to me, and I love you.  There are probably fancier ways of saying it, but I think that tells you just about how I feel.

Goodnight my wife, Cy.

*John Shaw

**Johny Huntoon’s mother

 

1939 July 20 “A few of my friends must like you just a little”

7/20/39

Dear Martha:

I can see where this isn’t going to work so well.  I’m trying to write to you and sing “Clementine” at the same time.  Every once in a while I sing what I’m thinking, and I can hear Marje gasp downstairs. [See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCtVtk1cKbk ]

Boy, what a silly climate this place.  The humidity is so high that even if you are cold when sitting still, when you start to move you get overheated.  I nearly froze in the pool today, but have been uncomfortably hot while working.

The work went a little better today.  I feel like I actually earned my pay for a change.  Wish you were here for I feel like a little enthusiastic display of what I think of you.

Wait until I get through this pile of stale letters.  I want to make a couple of quotes.  Hold everything. . . . . From Miss Laura*, referring to MMW*, whoever that is, “. . . . .I could love her a lot if I only let myself, so, with your permission, here goes!”  And from cousin Blenda, “I think Marty is the tops.”  And also from Maw Huntoon, “was so happy to hear that Marty came though ok.”  So you see, precious, a few of my friends must like you just a little.

Heard today that I shall almost be forced to take my vacation on schedule, starting week after next.  I had hoped to stall it off until yours, but it doesn’t look so good.

Broadway Ave, Camden, NJ, 1920s-1930s

A couple of the fellows have a swell house out in the suburbs and want me to come out with them.  It would be a little cheaper on the surface, but might be too much RCA for me.  I shall not have to decide until September.  I hate to leave here, for Marje and Nana and their friends have been awfully nice to me.  The rent there would be $16 per person, per month ($17.30 here), $10 per week for breakfast and dinner, plus six meals over the week-end, and laundry about $1 per week against $2 the way I have it done here.  They have a housekeeper who saves enough out of the food money for phone bills etc.  Coal assessments generally cost a little extra in winter, but ice is electric.  I feel flattered, for they are known to be awfully particular about the fellows they ask in.  Incidentally, they have married off seven fellows in the past six years.

‘Stime to quit.  Just thought I’d drop you a line to hold you over the week-end.  This should arrive Saturday.

All the love in the world.  Cy

P.S. Hi Helen!

*Cy’s mother, Laura Stafford

**Mary Martha Willis (Marty)