Dot sends a little postcard with the following message: “As per promise, I am mailing to you one of our country’s cheapest means of communication. On this little card, one may write public or personal messages, but it doesn’t make much difference how they start out cuz’ they’re all public when they arrive. But heck, I’m not ashamed to have people know I love you. So take a gander, one and all. Aren’t I lucky? Always yours, Dot”
Monthly Archives: March 2016
March 4, 1946
On his way home from dropping Dot off in Kent last night, Dart stopped at the local gas station to get some oil for the car. There was so little oil left that, on the advice of the nice old gent who ran the place, Dart drained the old stuff out and then flushed out the grimy, gritty sludge that remained. The whole process took about half an hour, and seems to have been worth it. The car runs much more smoothly and the oil he put in last night is still clean.
Last week’s letter from Burke was quite bitter because he’d been transferred off his homeward bound ARD and assigned shore duty in Guam. Yesterday’s letter was more cheerful because Burke is working in an air conditioned optical shop doing delicate repair work. He likes it far better than the carpentry he was doing on the ARD.
Dart had a long talk with his beloved Miss Palmer – his English teach from Shaw High School. She has invited Dot and Dart to dinner on March 17, if Dot will be in Cleveland on that Sunday. Dart accepted on Dot’s behalf and hopes she doesn’t mind.
He also spoke with his old friend John Angel who returned home from the Army last night. He and his wife Sally are staying with his folks for a while. When he learned that Dot and Dart were engaged, he commented that the only thing better than being engaged is being married, giving Dart a little thrill of anticipation for that big event.
The news from Fred is that he’s in Great Lakes hospital with a mysterious growth on his jaw bone. He’s likely to be there quite some time. What a coincidence that in this massive medical facility, he’s in the same ward where Dart spent so many months early in his Navy career.
Dart’s mother and her brother Tom will go to Ashtabula tomorrow to fetch Flora and bring her to Cleveland. She’ll be staying with Dart’s three aunts on Elsinor St. because they have a room that can be heated to the 90 degrees required by Flora. Everyone thinks she’ll do much better where she can be looked after by so may willing folks.
Dart has been pondering a comment his father made recently about the extreme cost of starting out in marriage. It’s much higher than either he or Dot had anticipated and he’s quite concerned about how they’ll manage. He still wants to get married as soon as possible, but he has no idea where they’ll find the money for an apartment and all the furnishings required. The possibility of moving to Chicago while he attends the University of Chicago is fraught with difficulties. Will he be accepted for summer, or fall, or not at all? Can they afford Chicago rents? Will Dot be able to find a job in a city where she has no contacts? The school is terribly overcrowded now, but they are setting up temporary housing, so there may be some next summer for married students.
“The big thing, though, remains. It is the initial expense. I cannot meet it now. I see no way I can meet it by the time we plan to be married. Above all else, though, is our desire to get married. I hope with all my heart that we will find ways to solve enough of our problems that we will begin our married life under far less handicap than is now apparent. A few, one or two, of these drawbacks could be easily overridden, with care. We have more than a few to face.”
“We have a tendency to see our problems for what they are worth, then to say to ourselves that we can find a solution. That’s alright, as far as it goes, but we go farther. Once we see a problem and say that we can find a solution, we treat that problem as though it were solved, which it is not, and then go on to another one. It’s dangerous. It’s giving us a false sense of security.”
He hopes Dot will not misconstrue his intentions in this letter. He’s only trying to gather their problems, refine his thoughts, and find solutions to as many as he can so that they can confidently move toward a June 1947 wedding date. “The great part of our work lies ahead of us. We’ve done little and must do much before our plans for marriage and the life immediately thereafter, are complete.”
He loves her and wishes he could add something more helpful to this letter. How he hopes she’ll be able to spend her Spring break with him and his parents.
# # #
Dot writes, “You do things to me that sometimes make me think I’m totally nuts. Last night after you left, I came upstairs and set the clock for 7:30 AM. I wound it and put it by my bed, dreading the hour at which it would burst forth and wake me out of a sound sleep. Well, it rang, and strangely enough, I got up. When I went in to call Mid, I glanced at my watch, which said 4:20. Thinking I had forgotten to wind it the night before, I proceeded to wake Mid. She remarked that it felt as though she had just fallen asleep, and glanced at her watch. It too said 4:20. “In less time than it takes to tell, I was back in bed and asleep. But it sure made me angry to think I’ll have to live with this stupidity the rest of my life!”
In other news, the beautiful weather has given Dot a touch of Spring fever. She thinks it would have been a glorious day for Dart to simonize his car, but she doubts he did it. She bowled a lowly 83 in class and can’t figure out what to do about it. She has a theme-writing test in class today, but right now, she’s not sure she could write her name. She reports that she’s “tired and very, very, very much in love.”
“Thanks for being all you are, Dart, and thanks again for taking me to the concert yesterday. I love to go places and do things, but I love it 100% more when you’re with me. Do you think you’ll be down Wednesday?”
I think it’s sweet that Dart visits Dot on campus mid-week. That’s the only way they seem able to survive the separations between weekend visits. These kids are surely making up for the time they lost during the war!
March 5, 1947
Dart writes, “I’ve just come back from a nice evening’s ride with Homer Singer. We went out in his brother’s convertible. We wore sport jackets, with no sweaters or topcoats and no hats! Surely was a lovely evening, made all the more so by a phone call to you.”
It warms my heart to read about all these young men returning to normal daily activities after spending so many months in the military and experiencing all the rigors and boredom of war. He and Homer visited their favorite station master from before the war, checked in with the local hobby store and then drove into downtown Cleveland along Lakefront Dr., stopping for cheeseburgers and milkshakes along the way.
Then, Dart charms his lady love by describing in great detail how he repaired the locomotive of his little train set by using the spring from a bicycle tire valve as a spare part.
A visit from John and Sally Angel revealed that they are returning to Ohio University soon. John will work until Sally graduates in June. Like Dart, John’s education was interrupted by the war and he has a long way to go to get his degree.
Today’s mail brought two letters and a Valentine from Dot, forwarded from the USS John R Craig and the APO in San Francisco. He also got a letter from Hal Martin. In one letter, she scolded him. It is not because of the scolding that he will end this letter, but because he’s very tired.
March 6, 1946
In Dot’s recent letter, she asked if Dart still planned to come to Kent on Wednesday. It would seem the answer was “yes,” because today is Wednesday and she is writing emphatically about his visit. We can also guess that he brought with him the same burning questions he’s posed the day before.
Dot begins, “It meant more to me than you can ever realize to have that talk with you tonight. Even though we may not have made any final decisions, we made a step in the right direction. … ‘Fraid I didn’t do or say much to make you glad you came. I give my solemn oath that I’ll work like a Trojan between now and Saturday so I can get to Cleveland by around noon. Thanks for being so thoughtful, practical, and most of all, for being so Dart.”
Then, off she goes to study.
March 7, 1946
With most of her housemates out in search of entertainment, Dot hopes to write this quick letter and then get in a couple of hours of studying in the quiet house.
She has learned there’s a direct bus from Kent to Cleveland on Saturday, arriving at the East Cleveland bus terminal around 1:30. From there, she’ll take the street car to his parents’ house. With those details settled, she sets about soundly scolding Dart for falling for Spring’s oldest trick – fooling young men to drive around at night in an open car without appropriate clothing. No wonder he has himself a whopper of a cold!
She must register for her third term tomorrow, and she’s looking at a very full schedule. She’s heard that many of the classes have already been filled by upperclassmen, and she hopes there’s something worthwhile left for her.
What was it she scolded him about in that letter forwarded from the Craig? Did he deserve it? Was it that part about his letters being much better than he thought they were? She tells him those letters seem like they were written so long ago that she can’t recall what she wrote about. It indeed seems like an ancient era, although it was scarcely a month ago.
Once she breaks the ice on this studying thing, she finds it’s not really too bad, so she must be about it. She may see him in person about the same time he gets this letter.
March 8, 1946
It’s Friday afternoon when Dot writes this letter, telling Dart that since she’ll see him before he sees this letter, she won’t write anything important. Naturally, she adds the little self-deprecating jibe that she never writes anything important.
“It’s now about 4:00 and all but two of the kids have gone home. They all started out with good intentions of staying over the weekend, but at the same time all decided too many people were going to stay to warrant very effective study. The result: Here I sit in almost complete solitude, ready to delve into my books with vigor and learn all there is to know about everything. (Wonder how long this mood will last. Probably about as long as it takes me to get my books assembled.)”
She’s not thrilled with her future class schedule because it keeps her busy until 4:00 every afternoon. That’s the only time she could get a typing class, and she’s determined to learn how to type.
“My letters have certainly become short, sweet, and to the point, or rather, pointless. But, as I’ve told you, I’m a bit busy. Every minute I spend doing something besides studying gives me a guilty conscience. If I didn’t love you so much, it wouldn’t bother me.”
Because the weekend is upon us and these kids will be together, there will be no letters until the 11th when they each weigh in briefly. See you then.
March 11, 1946
Dart writes, “My Darling Fiance’ – This’ll be no masterpiece, unless it’s a masterpiece of brevity. Got home, very cold, a few minutes ago. I’ll write tonight and try to do better this week than last. No promises, though. Gee, I love you. I surely hope you do well on your tests. Good luck. I love you.
# # #
Once again, Dot resorts to a postcard, but manages to fit in more news than Dart did on a full sheet of paper.
“I knew there’d come a day when Andrews would be of some value to me. This afternoon when I went to apply for the job I was hired as soon as I mentioned Andrews. My new boss, a Mr. Andrews, (maybe that had something to do with it) knows the school quite well and thinks it’s excellent training. So – I’m a working girl, as of the 25th of March! Erla is going to work full time during our vacation so he won’t need me.”
“Guess what! We don’t have any classes next Friday which leaves only three days of living death. Oh, JOY! Write! Hmmmm?”
I’m happy she got a job, but I wonder how she’ll manage a full schedule of classes, a job and visits with Dart. Also, I’m curious what the job is. We readers are at a slight disadvantage since so much of what’s discussed between Dot and Dart these days is discussed in person, rather than on paper!
March 12, 1946
Dart’s letter is brief enough that I can just quote it here, practically verbatim.
“It’s 1:30 AM. Under most conditions, I’d be losing sleep, but today, I guess it’s different. This morning I awoke early, wound my watch, rolled over and went back to sleep. At noon I managed to lift my head from the pillow. Moving cautiously lest some quick movement burst my head into a million pieces, I dressed and ate lunch, read my mail and went back to bed. At supper time Mom called me to eat and I haven’t slept since then. I guess I’ll get up to take Pop downtown to the courthouse in the morning. I have some business there myself, and also there are some pictures waiting for me at the Eastman Kodak store.”
“Mother didn’t change the linen on my bed, which is okay with me. She asked me if it were okay and I said, ‘Yeah, I guess so. I think Dot is clean.’ I couldn’t let her know that I sort of* like the arrangement.”
“My feet was friz last night. They felt like clubs when I walked from the garage to the house.”
“Gee, Dot, I hope that all out kissing didn’t transfer my cold to you. I don’t see how it couldn’t help but do it, considering all the kinds of kissing we did. I’d feel awful if you got this horrid thing to mess up your finals. Gee, I haven’t even said ‘I love you’, or told you how much I love you. But that’d take forever. Good thing I’m yours forever.”
*” ‘Rather’ is the proper word here, if you’d rather stick to correct grammar.”
# # #
Dot’s “letter” today is another postcard.
“Dear Mr. Peterson: Your lengthy (63 words) letter arrived this morning. Whatcha’ doin’? Competing with ‘Gone With the Wind?’ If so, most of it went with the wind on it’s way to Kent, cuz’ there sure wasn’t much left when it arrived here.”
“Found out a joyous piece of news today. I don’t have to come back to Kent ’til Tuesday, the 26th. My first class on Tuesday and Thursday isn’t until 2:00. Boy! I lead a hard life!”
“Gotta study phys sci now so I won’t make the same mess I made in basketball today. By the way, I got 90% on a biology test this morning. Must be a mistake. When Dr. Hobbs graded it, he looked at me, then back at the paper and said, ‘I’d better look at it again. That couldn’t be your paper!’ See you in less than 72 hours. 151 words and it’s only costing me a penny, yet! Love ya’!”
Do you think this young lady is excited at the thought of spending her long school break with Dart and his family? No, not much!
March 13, 1943
Dart writes a chatty letter today, like the ones he used to write when he was in the Navy. He spent a good part of the day tromping all over downtown Cleveland looking for either colored or patterned dress shirts. He runs through a long list of stores he tried, to no avail. No shirts to be found at any of them. It seems as if the war shortages have become the post-war shortages. It’s been several months since the was was over and the boys started returning, but inventory of civilian clothes hasn’t begun to meet the demand. I’m a little envious of the number and variety of shops Dart had to choose from. I’d venture a guess that there are only a handful of cities now that can boast downtown retail of that magnitude.
His other errands included dropping his discharge papers off at the county courthouse (they’ll be processed in three weeks) and picking up some developed film at the photo store. They were mostly pictures he and Dot took at Kent, and he deems them “fair.” He had several copies made for Dot and for some of the guys from the John R Craig.
After lunch, he dropped his father off at the courthouse. Dart Sr. is a juror on a doozy of a trial that’s likely to run about three weeks long.
In the afternoon, Dart and his mother spent some time trying to sort, organize and pitch much of the accumulated stuff that he and Burke have collected. He marvels how he was able to amass such a pile of worthless and irrelevant junk in just 19 years before being shipped out. Most of it’s gone now, including a letter from a certain young lady from Shaw high school telling him to go to hell.
This evening he went to the Dixon home to get news of Fred from his folks. However, the Dixons were leaving just as he was getting there. At that moment a woman with a familiar face and an unflattering hair-do walked past and recognized Dart. She was Charlotte Monck, a classmate of Dart’s who is now living with the Mr. and Mrs. Brown just down the street. (The Browns are the parents of John Angel’s wife, Sally.) Charlotte invited Dart over to the Brown’s house where he passed several hours updating the Browns on his news and catching up on all the news of Shaw classmates. “Mr Brown had to hear my sea stories and I had to hear the latest dope on the class. Mr. Brown is one who has the straight dope on everything – politics, high and low finance, Army and Navy rules and officers, and the like. Mrs. Brown has the tales to tell of her Boy, the neighbors’ Boys, and the neighbors’ friends’ Boys. Charlotte had little to say, except for some engagements, homecomings and a wedding or two. It was an evening of hot air, and I never did learn anything about Fred, the guy I started out after in the beginning.”
He came home to find a note tacked to his door telling him not to phone Dot unless he needed her. He’ll take that as a hint and just write that he loves her forever and always. Although it’s only Tuesday, it feels like she’s been gone long enough for it to be Friday. He misses her and can’t wait for the weekend when her school break begins.
This is the last letter either party writes until March 26, since they’ll be spending their time together again. I’ll try to fill in some of the empty days with a few samples of Dart’s poems he wrote while at sea, or before he left for the war.
March 23, 2016
During this long break in letters between Dot and Dart, I’ve decided to post some of the letters Dart wrote to Ruth Chamberlain over the years of his correspondence with her daughter. The one featured today was written on September 23, 1944. To refresh the reader’s memory, Dot is living back home in Greenwich, working at Franklin Simon, and spending most of her evenings babysitting with the Miller boys. Dart is in Fire Control school on Treasure Island in San Francisco, having recently completed a leave that took him to Greenwich. Below is his letter to Mrs. Chamberlain, verbatim.
A whole month ago, when you were in Sunapee, you wrote me a letter. Now, with rather doubtful alacrity, I attempt an answer. Every time I sit down to write a belated letter I vow either to myself or my correspondent that I’ll never again let a letter remain unanswered for so long. Oh well, life is, on the average, long, and and I may yet get around to answering my mail on time.
Dot sent me some pictures of Sunapee. It looks like the ideal spot for a restful vacation. Looks to be as nearly like Heaven on Earth as you and she describe it. Those views from the front porch make me want to lie there and watch the haze on the horizon. Must be really beautiful both morning and evening.
Thanks for your congratulations on my marks. The surprising thing to me is that they’ve kept up so well. The first month was elementary review of my freshman work at Case, so I had an excuse. Even now the training I had at Case is coming in very handy. Those who’ve never been to college, or who have never been interested in this type of work, are having a rather tough time of it, but they’re managing rather well.
Sad to say that about the only really lucrative employment I could make of the principles I’m learning is in slot machines and juke boxes. Far be it from my plans, though to make a career of the Navy. Perhaps with some heavy pondering I can think of some goldmine in old fire-control equipment. Know anyone who wants some problems solved mechanically? Perhaps some integrations, some mathematical predictions? Or maybe you’d like to fire a furnace by remote control, or even do a washing the same way. I’ll keep you in mind.
You ask if I’m an enthusiastic swimmer. The answer would be that I’m enthusiastic, but am, alas, no swimmer. I’ve been learning (they call it) for a long time, and I really enjoy it, but it’s taking a long, long time to learn. We have a lovely pool and good instructors, so at last my efforts are beginning to show. The most fun I have is with the elementary backstroke, the least is when they “request” us to leave solid footing for a second or two as we plunge from a 20-foot platform. That annoys me.
Mrs. Chamberlain, I wish you could see this beautiful state. From first appearances, it isn’t much to look at or write home about, but when an acquaintance is struck with the climate, and a close friendship is formed with the parks and suburban areas, the real beauty of the place is evident.
San Francisco is everything that song and story have proclaimed it to be. Hilly, picturesque, crowded, noisy, busy, its very appearance is romantic, with streets running almost vertically up the hills from the Embarcadero, the Spanish and Chinese, and other buildings gleaming in the sunlight. Above all, stand the two famous bridges, one silver, the other red, reaching into clouds above the highest point of the city. At every turn, every liberty, and every new day, the beauty of this awesome place so far from my native Ohio becomes more impressive. Just to make things even, there are plenty of sights and impressions which recall the days at home, and make us all wish we were there.
The day I arrived home from Greenwich I was out driving with my brother, and we met, quite by accident, three of my high school classmates. The following day we had lunch together and now all of our little group is split up. One fellow is a navigator on a Liberator bomber, making regular trips from England. The Marine sergeant is now in Pearl Harbor, after passing through Treasure Island en route. It’s strange the way no matter where the members of my rather small class go, there always seem to be two together, somewhere, at the same time. “We’ve” met in Cleveland, Washington, England, France, Pearl Harbor, New Guinea, Los Angeles, Sioux City, Australia, St. Louis, and numerous army and navy bases.
We can’t lose when friends can meet in all those places.
I enjoyed your letter very much and would like to hear from you again. Now I’m tempted to repeat the vow I mentioned at the beginning of the letter, but from past experience I know it would be useless.
I have no doubt that a letter like this would have made my grandmother a very happy correspondent with its articulate young author. She loved words, appreciated wit and admired intellect. In Dart’s letters, she would find all that, and more.