Monthly Archives: November 2016

Monday, November 11, 1946

38. November 1946, Dot's Letters

Dot begins, “There’s not much to write a letter for tonight except habit. I don’t mean I’m going to write about habit, but it’s habit that’s making me write this. Now wait a minute – that doesn’t sound very flattering. What I’m trying to say is that even though there’s no news, I don’t feel right if i go to sleep without chatting with you for a few minutes.”

Tomorrow she has another appointment with Dr. Howgate. She thinks his only plans are to remove some temporary fillings and replace them with permanent ones.

The only signs of Armistice Day today were the closed banks and schools and the fact that she worked for $12.00 an hour instead of $6.00. The stores were all open and there were no parades.

One thing that made the day a little more special was that she was able to hear Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians play “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” It reminded her of the last time she heard him perform that number, helped along by a few thousand Clevelanders singing along with the music. She misses going to concerts like that with Dart as much as she misses doing anything with him. When they are able to be together again, she hopes they’ll save their money for the worthwhile things, rather than just always going to a movie.

This letter has turned out to be worth no more than she thought it  might, unless he finds it worthwhile to be reminded that she loves him very much. One other thing that made today different was the fact that there was no mail delivery. It didn’t make it quite a “Blue Monday,” but more like a “blah Monday.”

Tuesday, November 12, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart didn’t write last night because he’d been sitting in a draft at school and it triggered back problems – “ached like somebody’d given me a foul punch.”

Although a VA check has still not arrived, today’s mail brought three letters from Dot. All of them were short, but swell.

He asks Dot if she’d been crying around 7:30 this morning. He awoke to what he thought were sobs, but no one in the house was crying. “If you were crying, it must have been because you knew the grade I was going to get on my Industry test. It was a low, mellow C-. How I dislike that class!”

Big news!!! “Beginning Saturday this week, the guy who writes you all my letters is supposed to become a newspaper man. And what’s more, I’m getting paid for it! The job is that of “copy boy” in the city room of the Cleveland Plain Dealer. The job will run on Saturday and Sunday nights, getting me home around 2:00 AM. That’s okay because my Monday classes don’t start until 11:45, so I think I’ll be able to do it. I start work at 6:00 PM and the rate is $.55 per  hour. Mr. Barnett, the Managing Editor, said I’d be making about $8.00 per week. I got the job through Mr. Dildine, my Journalism prof who works in the same room for the same hours.”

It sounded in her letters as though she was about to have a great Sunday. He’s sure, with her and El providing the supper, that church meeting must have gone over very well.

He wishes she’d written to him the night she was too lonely to write. He feels like reading a lonely letter tonight. He’s not sure why he got the impression she’s good with finances, except she never appears to worry about it, nor does she struggle with managing her money.

That’s all he can write tonight because, as usual, bed is calling. He sends his love, of course.

#          #          #

“See here, Pot, let’s not go calling the kettle black!,” says Dot. “You say you get mad at me for not telling the whole truth about my very limited abilities, yet you are guilty of the same thing! You never think (or, at least you won’t admit it) that you’ll get more than a C on a test, yet you rarely get below a B+.”

She goes on to explain her dancing prize. Just before leaving Greenwich High School for Andrews, she was in a dancing contest by mistake. “We went out on the floor during a dance contest and the judges thought we were in it. I think my partner was Ray Harrington (son of the man who does some arrangements for Fred Waring), but I can’t remember. Anyway, all we did was dance – a fox trot I guess – and we were chosen as the best dancers on the floor. That was due, no doubt, to the fact that there were few couples on the floor and Ray was a good dancer.”

She adds that she wasn’t exactly fibbing when she said she didn’t like doing the jitterbug. “I don’t like to be thrown all over the place like some people do, but I think it’s kind of fun to work out a fast step now and then.” She promises that sometime, in the privacy of their own living room, she will teach him all she knows about dancing. That’ll take about 10 minutes, she claims. The short version of this story is that she is not too bright about dancing. With all the lessons she’s had, she should be another Arthur Murray now, but she is most certainly not!

She apologizes if her letters seem absent-minded lately. She admits that she has not proof-read most of them because she finds it too boring to re-read all the boring drivel she’s just written. Besides, it’s usually 1:30 in the morning when she finishes her letters.

Perhaps part of the issue is that there is a radio program on every night at midnight, while she’s writing to Dart. She gets caught up in the beautiful music and wishing she could write equally beautiful words to tell him how much she loves him. “Oh Dart, if you knew how disgusted I get with myself and the letters I write, you wouldn’t ask me to read them over.”

While it’s sweet of him to worry about her, she thinks that’s where he’ll find the biggest difference between them. There’s not much that bothers her to the point that she worries about it to the extent that he does. “The most I ever worried about you was when you were overseas, but even then I didn’t worry too much then because I knew you’d come back.  She describes her philosophy as “stoic”; What will be, will be, and worry can’t change it. She also thinks it’s selfish to worry over little things when so many people live through real problems. “Why take time to worry when I could spend that time doing something to make the situation better?”

Now she realizes Dart may take the previous statement as criticism, but it isn’t meant that way. He surely has very real things to worry about, but her life is worry-free, so why stir things up?

She hopes he won’t object, but she read his “dissertation” about the recent election to her father, who wants her to tell Dart that he’s very glad his daughter is marrying someone with such sound reasoning. “He agrees with you 100% on all the men you mentioned, and the fact that you never even mentioned the name ‘Roosevelt’ makes you practically perfect in his eyes. Maybe it’s a good thing we’re moving to Ohio after we’re married. My family is fast falling in love with you as much as I already have. I’d never be able to call you my husband. You’d belong to the whole crowd, and I’m not sure I like that.”

She passed  his best wishes on to the whole Meyerink family on the arrival of Gretchen. She’s sad his check hasn’t arrived yet, so she’s sending him a quarter to buy lunch. That leaves her with a quarter between now and payday, but she gets her lunches for free!  “Think how much more I’ll enjoy your lunch if I help you pay for it.” She also suggests that he borrow from the penny account, if he’s sure he could pay it back before June.

She tells him she’ll wait until tomorrow to review that typewritten “book” he sent.

After choral practice tonight, she and the new roomer, Virginia, sang duets for quite some time. Virginia played the piano and sang while Dot chimed in with the harmony. “Her voice is pretty and loud enough to drown me out, so we didn’t sound too bad. Mom was in the kitchen ironing and applauded after every piece.”

Tonight she was bragging to the family that at work today she was told she was a pretty good operator. Her dad, with a devilish twinkle in his eye said, “Well, did you tell ’em who your father was?” She replied, “Oh yes, but they didn’t hold that against me.”

She tells him this is the kind of night she’d like to take a walk with him. It reminds her of the night they walked through the park and came out by the car barns on Euclid. He looked so cute that night. “I love you, Darling.”

P.S. “By the way, I did read this over, and I still can’t write a decent letter.”

Wednesday, November 13, 1946

38. November 1946, Dot's Letters

Today’s only letter comes from Dot. I’ve always known that when I paraphrase her letters, much of her playful mischief and gentle humor is sacrificed. Since we have no letter from Dart today, I decided to replicate Dot’s letter in its entirety so that readers can enjoy her wit and charm in full measure.

If I don’t watch my step, I’ll get as far behind in answering letters as some other people I know.

Any news about the possible job at Singer for your mom? Wish her good luck for me, but you might add that if having a job means I’ll not get so much as a postcard from her anymore, I don’t think I like the idea. I guess my mom owes you a letter too, doesn’t she?

I will offer absolutely no sympathy to you about your test in industry. If you do get as low a grade as you predicted, well, congratulations – one of your predictions came true. If not, I’ll be glad, but don’t think for one minute I’ll let you know about it.

Guess it’s only right for me to compliment you on your work in prose workshop. (By the way, that shouldn’t be capitalized. Neither should industry.) Hope you’re saving all your papers from that class ‘cuz I want to read them.

I’m eager to hear what the editor from McGraw-Hill had to say. Is there any chance of you doing some part time work for them while you’re going to school? Might be well for you to get your teeth sunk into that piece of cake so that you’ll be all ready to bite it off when it’s time for dessert.

Thanks for the clippings from the various papers. Of course I recognized you in the photo. You were squatting down near the left side of the picture. You held your little camera in your right hand and you were wearing your sport jacket.

With such a wonderful orchestra as the one Cleveland boasts, I don’t wonder more people want to enjoy the music without going bankrupt to do it.

I, too, have found it much easier to talk to the opposite sex since I fell in love with you. My reason, however, is a trifle different from yours. I was a man-hater most of my life until I met you and always hated the thought of having anything to do with them. But after I met you and discovered, much to my amazement, that there are a few gentlemen in the world, I more-or-less lost my terrific fright of males. I gradually began to be able to say hello to them without turning every shade on a color chart.

Whenever you’re in a mood to type or write a long letter, don’t try to talk yourself out of it. The longer they are, the better I like ’em. You might try writing another long one Saturday night so that it will arrive at a time when it will be needed and most surely appreciated.

Just what, my good man, were you referring to when you said they didn’t make symbols for what belongs below the hugs and kisses? (As if I didn’t know, or couldn’t guess, or didn’t wish for all the time.)

Think you’ll have a train layout like Mr. Doeright’s someday? After all, if you don’t have to keep supplying me with fur coats, you’ll have plenty left to invest in your hobby.

Our Choral Club is going to have several extra rehearsals between now and December 1. We have a very meticulous and good choir director. We will have organ accompaniment, but there are parts when we sing without it and then it comes in. In such a case, pitch is extremely important because the organist can’t just join in, playing the pitch we may have dropped to. She has to play the notes as they are written.

Dr. Howgate said if I didn’t have a false tooth put in, the tooth below where my tooth used to be will start growing up in that space and will separate from the teeth next to it, thus causing cavities. $75.00 covers everything he’s doing – preliminary to putting the tooth in – so that’s really not as exorbitant as it appeared.

Yes, you did ask what the male members of the wedding party will be expected to wear. They all wore dress suits at Harriet’s wedding, and looked mighty purdy to me. Darling, I know it must seem like a lot of fuss we’re going to to get married, but a wedding is something a girl dreams about all her life. It’s not just something that lasts as long as it takes to perform the ceremony. The memory of such an event lasts a lifetime. The girl who sits next to me at work once in a while got married two weeks ago. She had a matron of honor, four bridesmaids, a ring bearer and a flower girl. I thought maybe it would be fun to have Linda Pecsok as a flower girl and maybe Chuckie or Chris as the ring bearer. But perhaps that’s getting too elaborate. I’ve always dreamed of having a flower girl, but I don’t have to have one.

This afternoon at work one of the supervisors gave me an analysis. That means she plugged in with me and checked every call I made, the way I handled my calls, my voice, etc. The analysis lasted an hour and she called me aside to talk about it afterwards. She explained that even though I hadn’t been one of her pupils, she tested me because my own supervisor is sick. She went on to say that she wished I’d been one of her pupils because she was very proud of me. Then, and this is what counts in the long run, the chief operator, the real boss lady, came up to me personally and told me they were all very pleased with my work. Now who’s tootin’ her own horn? See, I do say nice things about myself. Already my hats don’t fit. It did make me feel kinda good and was all the more incentive for me to become absolutely perfect. For, after all, it’s a job worth doing, and I’m going to see to it that my part is done well.

Say, what’s gotten into me lately? This is the second night in a row that I’ve come through with 6 pages. Guess that’s ‘cuz I spend 5 pages answering your letters and use the 6th page to tell all that happens around here. It can all be condensed into one sentence: Nothing ever happens that’s worth the time it takes to happen in this dead, dull town. P.S. I don’t like Connecticut people very much. Oh! But those Ohioans! Ah, now that’s practically a different race! There’s one in particular that I’m madly in love with. Who, you ask? If you did ask such a question, it’s you, silly.

Your own, Dot.

Thursday, November 14, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart had no letter from Dot today, but then, he didn’t write to her last night, so it’s all okay. He says he feels “a bit peculiar” taking advantage of the ‘privilege’ she’s given him not to write when he has too much schoolwork.

He’s finally enclosing the train photos for Chuckie. He’s put some information on the backs, which may be too much for Chuckie, but it’ll help Dot know what to tell the little guy about the photos.

Cleveland College has a quarterly literary magazine called Skyline that publishes “prose and verse of merit by students and faculty.” Tonight, Miss Talmage asked Dart if he would agree to be her class’s “representative” on the staff of the publication. Naturally, he was delighted to have been asked, and promptly accepted.   He truly didn’t think his writing stood out enough for him to have been singled out for this honor. The staff meet every Friday night. As of now, he’s not sure what his duties will be, or even the style and reach of Skyline, but he’s very excited at the prospect, and plans to learn as much as possible before the next meeting.

He’s especially happy that the staff meetings, which last only an hour, won’t interfere with either his new job or his rail club meetings. He realizes how much he has come to enjoy the company of those fine fellows in his club.

The excitement grows for his first night on the new job. He’s heard he’s in for an interesting and not-too-difficult night of it.  He’s tickled to have broken so easily into the business he hopes to penetrate when he graduates.

Now he tells Dot about a guy named Earle Ramsdell who is in both of his English classes. Dart describes him as a “very interesting character, marvelously well-informed and a fellow of high ideals and wide interests.

Seemingly, he switches abruptly to a new topic, wondering if Dot, while in Cleveland,  had ever heard snippets of a Saturday radio program Pop listens to. It is the weekly broadcast of the City Club luncheon speaker. He explains that the City Club is a Who’s Who of Cleveland, known for its liberality, its interest and influence on local, national and foreign affairs. It draws speakers from politics and government, science, journalism, and most other fields of human endeavor.

“The connection between these last two paragraphs is simply this: Earle Ramsdell has a student membership ($1.75 for three months) In the Cleveland City Club and he has invited me to join! You bet I will if I possibly can. Why, it’s a real privilege to belong to that club. All the prominent men of Cleveland belong. I’ve been hoping I’d get an invitation to it sometime before I was 75 or 80 and here it is already! Boy! When good things happen, they sure do pile up!”

What on other days would be a triumph in an ordinary Thursday letter is eclipsed by these two monumental events mentioned above. What else was good about his day? He got another A in prose from Miss Talmage. It was a very long description of the Golden Gate Bridge, which, when read aloud to the class, received criticism of being long and dry. (The essay, not the bridge – which is indeed long and generally dry.) Dart agrees with the class assessment, but he’ll take the A.

This morning the Peterson family roomer, Kathleen, left a note on the kitchen table saying that she had a companion in her room that was causing her to lose sleep with his playing around. Dart, Sr. set a trap for the mouse in question and caught him almost immediately. Our Dart was saddened to see the soft little body and cute round ears stuck in the trap. All the poor guy wanted was a little taste of cake, which remained in his teeny paws in death.

Now he sets about answering the two letters he got from Dot yesterday. He’s still checking with the VA, but all they can do is tell him to wait for his check to arrive.

He was so happy to read her wish that they will spend their meager date money on worthwhile things, rather than just taking in movies all the time. He’s in total agreement. “Oh, Dottie – I’m going to like being married to you!”

It’s nice that she had such a great day on Sunday. Good speakers, fine dinner, deep thoughts. He tells not Dot to  be so hard on herself about not being a leader yet. She’s so young. If she keeps on caring about things and doing what she can about them, she’ll find her place in the world. He thinks he knows a little of how she feels.

Looking at next year’s school calendar, he thinks June 14th will work for him as a wedding date. He expects classes to be done by late May and he’ll need at least five days after he gets to Connecticut for the license and blood tests, etc.

Golly, how will he find time to write to Dr. Bliss? Well, he’d certainly like to write to him, so he’s sure he’ll find the time somewhere. It seems as though his calendar has suddenly become pretty tightly packed.

“I’ve been sitting here dreaming about that afternoon we went out to Uncle Guy’s. We have so many wonderful memories, Dot. I’m glad that we can enjoy things together, and that we get identical pleasures from simple things. (Remember your wiener roast and scavenger hunt?)”

“Oh, Dot, I want you forever. I’m selfish that way. Thank God for sending me you and thank you for being mine. Do you remember the first night we went real far? How we said our marriage vows as we sat on the edge of your bed? I think we’ve been married since then, Dot. If only those vows had been under the right conditions! Then we could finish our getting acquainted. We could consummate our marriage and begin living and loving together. Pretty words, Dot? Oh, I mean them with all my heart.”

#          #          #

Dot’s feeling very virtuous tonight because the angel on her right shoulder defeated the devil on her left and prevented her from blowing her budget, ignoring her mending pile and going to see a movie. Now her budget is in tact and her mending is done. She even finished making a skirt that she started two years ago.

She and Nancy plan to take a long hike tomorrow and then cook their lunch out in the woods. Jane can’t come because she must babysit her nephew Smokey while his parents attend the Yale football game.

She’s sure she wasn’t crying at 7:30 Tuesday morning. Maybe Dart had the premonition that she would tear up a bit when Dr. Howgate was drilling her teeth around 10:00 a.m.

How proud she is of him for his new job! Although it sounds right up his alley, perhaps he should learn to grab some sleep during the afternoon on the days he works. He may be starting out as a copy boy, but she believes he’ll have moved up a few rungs by the time he graduates.

It pains her to go to the bank early in the morning. She has to withdraw $130 as a loan to Eleanor, which will temporarily bring her bank balance down to $70. Still, El has helped her out before and it feels good to be able to return the favor now.

Even though she sits all day at her job, she still gets plenty tired. Yes, she’s stopped dreaming of flashing lights, but now, whenever she picks up a ringing phone at  home she answers with “Number, please.” She thinks she may be taking her job too seriously!

She tries to find new ways to say it, but all she can think of is the old standard, “I love you.”  But that love is the most beautiful thing she’s ever experienced. “You’re as much a part of my life as the air I breathe, but I most certainly don’t take you for granted.”

Gee, I think she just found a new way to say it…

Friday, November 15, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters

Dart is nearly at peace with the world today. In addition to the six-page letter from Dot and the two other great things that happened to him this week, his VA check finally arrived! After taking out his insurance premium, a payment for his loan from Uncle Tom, and depositing pennies and Roosevelt dimes into their penny account, his finances are looking much rosier than two weeks ago. He has $48.17 in his own account and they have $46.00 in their joint penny account. “By the way, if you object to my saving only Roosevelt dimes, just remember that for every one I save, that’s just one less image of your father’s arch enemy to be circulated.”

Tonight he drove all the way over to the west side for the model club meeting. They had another swell time.

When he put the car away after the meeting, he missed Dot so much. “I wanted to pull you over to me and kiss you until sunrise, but I couldn’t. You weren’t there. Remember how we used to look at the stars as we left the garage? Gee, I wanted you there with our arms entwined and walking in step while we looked up at the stars. They sure were pretty tonight.”

They got the word today that the garage rent will go from $3.00 to $4.00 next month, so the old rusty jalopy will spend the winter outside. He’s not sure the old girl will survive a winter out in the cold.

He’d like to write more, but he goes in early tomorrow to learn his job before the shift starts, so he needs to sleep.

“Good night, Darling. I love you with every bit of love and longing it’s possible for me to have.”

Saturday, November 16, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

It must be very late as Dart writes this letter because he has just come home from his first night at the Cleveland Plain Dealer. He expects he’ll be writing a lot about the job from time to time, but he wants to give Dot a flavor for it now.

He liked his first shift very much. It seems to be a fairly easy job, and he may even have lots of time to get school work done while he’s there.  There are men he’ll need to watch out for, and others who seem like “swell fellows.” There’s one guy there who’s nicknamed “Atom Bomb” because of the way he bellows.

He enjoys seeing the process of getting a newspaper out and he’s seen the whole operation except the press room. He makes frequent trips out to 118th St and Superior Ave. to pick up wire photos, sometimes driving a Plain Dealer van. He was thrilled to see the first run of the morning papers coming up the conveyor from the press room at 7:45 this evening.

The last deadline for the morning paper is 1:00 AM, at which time, he’s done. He’s heard that copy boys are often dismissed a few minutes early so that they can catch the “owl” streetcars that leave at 1:00.

Because he’s too tired to write a long, sweet letter, he’ll just try to answer some of the points in her recent one. He hopes this letter reaches her in time to cheer her up during her upcoming difficult days. So, here comes his response to her letters.

“All right, kettle. I’m just as black as you are. Satisfied now? Only I’m a little sore at the time we wasted in not trying to teach me some of your fast steps. I’m glad you don’t like to be thrown all over the place. In my own little prudish opinion, it doesn’t look very lady-like. It may take you only 10 minutes to show me everything you know in fast stepping, but it’ll sure take much longer than that to teach me! I didn’t know that your dance lessons were of the Arthur Murray (social) variety.”

It’s too bad she doesn’t like her letters. He certainly likes them, and he wanted to believe they both liked the same things.

How he wishes he weren’t so much of a worrier. She surely gets excited about things, and he wishes he could do a little more of that.

He’s wondering about the “other operation” that doctors had said she may need to have. Now she’s saying she thinks the doctors were nuts to believe that. Is she able to tell him what kind of operation that was? Is it too personal for her to talk about. If so, he hopes the day will come when she feels able to discuss it with him.

Today’s mail brought his discharge records for his terminal leave from the US Navy. That means his terminal leave check or savings bond should be arriving soon. Also he got a note from the editor of Skyline telling him of the meeting next Friday evening.

He was very happy to learn that she’s doing so well at her new job that she’s receiving high praise from the “higher ups.” He writes in giant red letters, underscored no less, “I’M PROUD OF MY DOT!”

How he hopes nobody at the phone company holds it against her that she’ll be moving to Cleveland. He doesn’t think there is any way she could get him to move to Greenwich unless she were able to get him into Columbia. “I guess it’s alright, though, because I’d rather not be married to your family. It’s you I want!”

He explains that he wrote that long diatribe about voting because he was expecting a big argument about the way he voted. He was under the impression that the Chamberlains were straight ticket Republican voters so he wrote his disapproval of the practice for any party. Now he launches into another fiery diatribe on the same subject, talking about voting for the right man regardless of his party affiliation; choosing the right men to lead the country, etc. The whole thing sounds highly chauvinistic with 70 years of hindsight.

He redeems himself by closing on a tender note. “I wish that I could be there, if my being there could help you over your rough days. I’d like to give you a back rub if it would help. Remember (of course you do!) the nights we lay on the couch at Sunapee? Will we ever be through getting acquainted with each other by talking? Hope not. I hope we’ll always have something to whisper to each other about. Of course, the other way of getting acquainted is nice too. I love you.”

#          #          #

Dot begins, “Despite my good intentions and many attempts to do so, I never did write to you last night. Nancy and I talked about some of her mentally disturbed patients and the men (in my case the man) in our lives (not implying there’s any connection between the former and the latter subjects of discussion).”

At 2:00 AM, they went down to the kitchen, hoping for a hot cocoa with marshmallow fluff. Sadly, there was no milk, so they improvised sandwiches of marshmallow fluff, peanut butter and jelly! For good measure, they added cheese and crackers, olives and ginger ale.

Their planned hike devolved into a couple of trips to the mailbox, after they hung around talking the whole day. They cooked their meal at Nancy’s house and caught a movie before Nancy caught a train back to her job.

The movie they saw was some ancient thing whose name escapes Dot, starring Charles Boyer and Claudette Colbert. Both girls agreed it was awful, and a total wast of $.70. To console themselves, the both had genuine pre-war banana splits. Dot declares it was the second banana split of her life, and positively her last.

She’s imagining that just about now Dart is leaving for his second night at work. She’s eagerly awaiting a report on how he likes his job. She’s with him in spirit and wishing him all the luck in the world.

A letter from her old roommate Ellie came today. Don (her husband?) returned to school this semester and is doing well.

She wishes Dart had reminded her that his father had a birthday coming up. She’s not holding him responsible for her forgetfulness, but until she gets all the family birthdays fixed in her mind, she’d appreciate a heads up.

Last night, she missed Dart in that “awful, penetrating way.” How she’d love to be able to attend the Andrews Alumnae Banquet in February (and squeeze in a visit to Dart’s home) but there’s no way to justify the expense. It’s a good thing that dreams don’t cost a thing or she’d be a pauper.

And now, I must give you some bad news. This is the last letter I’ll be posting from Dot for the remainder of 1946. I can tell from Dart’s upcoming letters that she continued to write regularly, but six weeks worth of letters have vanished over time. I’m hoping, through Dart’s letters and my onversations with Mom to fill in some of what transpired in Dot’s life during these missing weeks. I feel the loss of each letter like a physical jab, but I’m so very grateful the the hundreds of letters that remain.

Sunday, November 17, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters

Dart’s observations about the birthing of a daily newspaper are so droll, I thought I’d share them with you verbatim.

There surely doesn’t seem to be much of a rush about getting a newspaper out. The deadlines come and go, and people sit around and read stories and write stories and tell stories and yell ‘BOY!’; and the boys chase around collecting stories and getting photographs and getting proofs; and then suddenly, without anybody hurried and without any fanfare, a morning paper rolls from the presses.

No blustering action to speak of. No ‘Stop the presses!’ Nobody works very long at a time, nobody worries about anything. It amazes me to see the comparative tranquility with which the paper is collected, composed and issued.

The composing room is an interesting place I’ll have to tell you about sometime.

It sounds to me like what Dart is witnessing is the working of a well-oiled system of seasoned professionals who could do their jobs in their sleep with the confidence that, if everyone pulls their own weight, everything will come out the way it’s supposed to.

He asks if Dot remembers that letter he wrote a bout a well-rounded education – the one in which he discusses (at length) the relative merits of a specialized vs a general college  curriculum. He thinks it will form the skeleton of this week’s prose workshop assignment. The “suggestive word,” (how Dart hates that term!) is Why? Students can pose that question in any context they choose and then answer it in essay, article, or short story form.

He’s happy to say that his mother wrote Dot a letter today – at least she had planned to. He neglected to tell Dot that Helen did get that job at the Singer store and is due to start tomorrow.

Dart finally had a talk with his industry prof, Mr. Wood, about what he should be reading or doing in order to learn more about the subject. The man is a very nice fellow to talk to, but he ended up asking Dart what he thought he could be doing. Dart is discouraged because the majority of the class are business majors and they know all the stuff that’s in the book. Dart is finding it terribly challenging to get through the dry, dull textbook. He must retain at least a C in that class because he thinks he’s still on academic probation and a D would really cause a problem for him.

Yes, he is saving all his papers from this semester. If the postage isn’t too much, he may put them all into a binder and send them to Dot at the end of the term so that she can read them all and return them to him.

His interview at McGraw-Hill was not very encouraging. Mainly, the man advised Dart to avoid the writing side of the business,  stay out of the publishing end of things for several years. “Nope. There must be some other way.”

He finds himself to be very curious about why Dot was such a man-hater in her earlier years. Is it because someone in her early dating years wasn’t a perfect angel? Was it a holdover from the adolescent years when typical teens are disinterested in the opposite sex? He’d love to hear her thoughts on the subject.

It looks like Dot may get few letters from Dart this week. He hates to skip too many days because he knows how lonely and forgotten he feels when a day comes with no letter from her.

Since she brought up the subject of Xs and Os, he asks what they should use for the rest? He suggests **** and !!!!. “That would represent just about everything, I guess. Of course, we don’t rate much more than XXs and OOs right now, although the **s have been more than thought, a couple of times. I’m looking forward to the !!s, as I guess you are, too. Naturally, I’m looking forward to a whole lifetime of XXs and OOs and !!s”

It is with trepidation that he broaches the subject of the wedding, even though he knows it’s really all the bride’s prerogative. He’s always imagined getting married in a tux or in tails, and he still would like to do so. Still, his bigger concern is the cost. He doesn’t want to go into marriage in debt because of overspending on a wedding. Plus, there’s the question of whether or not Burke will be able to afford to come to Connecticut or if Dart will have to pay for him. Frankly, I’m not exactly clear what point he was trying to make, but is seems something like: I want you to have all that you and I want, but I don’t want it to cost anything. I acknowledge that this is your realm, but I fear that you’ll make foolish choices. I trust you completely. I wonder what sensible Dot will have to say in response. We may never know exactly, but perhaps we’ll get a clue from Dart’s reaction to her response.

He suggests she get one of those books that is used to plan a wedding. When she finds one she likes, he will buy the same one so that as she fills in what her plans are, he can know exactly what she’s referring to and can weigh in.

“And speaking of sentimental dreams, fellows have them too. A young man isn’t thoroughly married until he can finance the honeymoon himself. It’s something I’ve always looked forward to, and expected to do; a week-long date with my best, and henceforth, only girl. How ’bout that?”

Finally, he wraps it up in a pretty package, which – had he started here – would have saved him several sheets of paper. “I view of what I’ve said, I do hope we can get married in formal attire, you in a really nice wedding dress and me in a tuxedo or full dress. The rest of it – number of attendants, posy-gal and ring-carrier, etc., where we’re married, spiked punch or no spike, and all the rest, is your problem. My wanting a formal wedding may seem paradoxical to my wanting to keep expenses down to where we won’t be sorry, but above all, LET’S GET MARRIED!”

Monday, November 18, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters

It’s 2:00 in the morning. Dart is exhausted, ill-prepared for his American literature test, and too tired to study it any more. Yet he sits down to write to Dot so that she won’t feel the disappointment of an empty mailbox in two days.

He cannot afford to get less than a B in one of his major classes, but he can’t seem to keep all these Colonial writers straight. He, like most Americans, has grown up knowing a bit of what Thomas Paine and Tom Jefferson contributed to early American thought, but he is supposed to distinguish among 30 obscure writers of that time; their significance to Colonial politics, their views on the Revolution, etc.

“With our hero worship of Washington, Jefferson, Paine, and some others, it’s surprising to learn that there was so much opposition to the Revolution; opposition from within our own ranks. Many of their arguments were pretty sound, too. It’s surprising also to read the thoughts of these men, both for and against the American Revolution, whose thoughts are easily applicable today and might help us to solve today’s problems, if we hadn’t come to discredit sound thinking, fair play, decency, and reason.”

He must sleep. He says that writing this letter may have helped him on that test.

“Sometime, if I search and wait long enough, I’ll find the ideal way to express my deep love, longing and devotion for you.”

Tuesday, November 19, 1946

38. November 1946, Dart's Letters

Dart was pretty impressed with the letter he got from Dot today. “How do you manage to keep so sharp? Mebbe eating pencil sharpeners and honing stones for breakfast does the trick. Or do you still have the edge your father put on you with a razor strop when you were young enough for him to handle that way?”

He writes that Burke also wrote a sharp letter home form the University of Chicago today. He thanked his folks for sending a money order, and in the next paragraph, told about a date he’d been on. The he added, “In case your evil minds are working, I’m not squandering my money on women. Pat’s an inexpensive girl to operate and our two dates have totaled less than $3.00. We have a standing date for a walk during the first snowfall, for each to throw snow on each.”

Burke added the further news that he’d been offered a job as “chief button-pusher and apparatus setter-upper” for the biggest wig in the physical science department. They want someone who will stick with the job until graduation and then receive an appointment as a lecturer and instructor. It’s exactly the type of work he wants to do, so it looks like he’s all set to begin his future.

And now, for Dart’s “news.” At last, he can be sure of himself when he makes a prediction about a test. He completely bombed the literature teat this morning. When he turned in the half-completed mess, Mr. Carter asked him what he thought of the little gem of a test. Dart replied that it must have been a good test because he was unable to answer more than half of it. Mr. Carter chuckled an evil little laugh and Dart swears he detected a strong odor of brimstone in the vicinity of the desk.

If he has time, money, and inclination on Friday, he may go out to the airport and take in the sights of the national air show. They’re using a bomber plant as the display area – the biggest indoor space ever utilized for a show. He’ll even try to win a helicopter ride back into town.

“So you weren’t crying when you woke up the other day? Maybe I’m on a psychic party line and I don’t  know the other subscribers.”

He points out a clever comment Dot made in a previous letter – a comment I completely missed. When she was congratulating him on his new job, she commented that the hours sounded as though they’d be hard on his constitution. Immediately, she suggested an “amendment” – an afternoon nap to make up for lost sleep. Now Dart writes “Oh, you kid! An ‘amendment’ to my ‘constitution.’ Where do you get these? … Don’t worry about your puns, Dot. I might complain, but I love them!”

He confirms that his dad’s birthday is Nov. 14 and his mother’s is Feb. 3. He agrees it would be great if she could come west for that alumnae banquet. Then he tells her he must quit. His Spanish homework is done, but he must start journalism.