Sunday, November 24, 1946

Dart’s shift at work tonight was “one BIG merry chase.” Every time he sat down, he’d be called to run some errand. He drove out to the wire photo shop twice, and out to the heights once to pick up an obituary. The last trip added 20 miles to the 46,000 that had already been run in the 1946 Plymouth he drove.

He was the only “serviceable” copy boy on duty because the other one over slept and came in 4 hours late. He left almost immediately when he ripped the seat out of his pants. He had to leave because there’s a girl telephone operator in the office.

Dart was able to catch one of the new interurban streetcars at 12:34 and was back home by 1:05 AM. There’s a new game on the streets of Cleveland. The streetcars can get up to 50 mph in a couple of blocks, and they do it regularly, even though the speed limit is 35. Knowing that the trolleys can stop in half the distance of automobiles, the cops leave the motormen alone. However, they lie in wait for the drivers who try to pass the trolleys when they’re going 50, and then slap those drivers with a hefty ticket. Because the streetcars can stop so quickly, there have been several rear-end collisions of cars into streetcars. The motormen barely feel the bump, and their trolley isn’t damaged, so they just continue on. Meanwhile, the drivers are stuck with a busted up front end.

Cryptically, he wonders what Old Eyebrows will say to the Judge in court today. Dart’s sure they’ll all be watching. That statement will be another little test of my mother’s long-term memory. I wonder if she’ll be able to shed light on what Dart was talking about.

My guess is that Dot wrote something about how cold her house has been. It must have had something to do with coal – either there’s a shortage, or it’s so expensive that Arthur won’t buy much, or it smells, or something like that. The reason I guess this is because Dart extends an invitation for all the Chamberlains to come west, to where folks heat their homes with gas. He says the brick homes of Ohio don’t stretch as much as those wooden houses of New England, but he’s certain they could find room for some of the Chamberlains- one in particular!

Even though there are “millions of pages” of Dot’s letters he’s not answered, they’ll have to wait a little longer. He had no time to study at work, so he’ll be up all night doing it now.

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