Dot’s airmail letter arrived today just as Dart was leaving for work. It was great to hear from her, but he’s sorry she’s having such a rough time of it over the “Merry Holiday.” I’m not sure exactly what she wrote to him, but I know from conversations with Mom that this was the week she got very, very sick. She had called her cousin Janie yesterday but was told Janie had gone to bed ill. A few hours later, the word came that Jane had gone into a diabetic coma and died! (Seventy years after the fact I still grieve this young girl I never met – a smart, energetic, funny young woman who never really had a chance to live.) As the day and night wore on, Dot became violently ill and her family believed it was from her grief over Janie. At some point, however, they learned that the appendix, which had been giving her trouble for several years, was nearly ready to rupture. She underwent emergency surgery on New Year’s Eve – probably about the time Dart was writing today’s letter.
Dart is keeping his commitment to lay off the passionate letters for a while. This 10-pager is full of chitchat, and a long dissertation on how a daily newspaper is born. I’ll cover the chitchat and skim over the newspaper production.
He received a letter from the Navy Disbursement Office stating that his request for terminal leave pay had been received and was being processed. That’s nice to know, but he got his terminal leave check weeks ago. He also got his December GI-bill stipend of $65, but not in time to get it into the bank today. He was able, however, to make a deposit into their penny account at the bank, using the check Dot had included from her penny collection and the pennies and FDR dimes he’d collected. “Whether you like FDR or not, he’s helping us to save money for our marriage.”
When his mother was rummaging through the attic the other day she came upon a box that she thinks must be Dot’s. It contained a nice pair of boots and Dart asks what she’d like them to do with them. Shall he mail them to Greenwich of keep them here for next winter when she’ll be a resident of snowy Cleveland?
Finally, he called Tom Riley about the wedding. First, Tom didn’t think it would be a sin for him to serve as an usher in a Protestant wedding. He seemed pleased to be asked, but will have to check his school calendar to see what his availability will be in June.
Pop was called to start his new job a couple of days early. He started his training as a night clerk at 2:00 this afternoon and Dart and Burke picked him up at midnight. Dart sure hopes he likes it, although Dart wouldn’t be too keen on the job himself.
Yesterday, he, Homer and Burke spent two and a half hours visiting with Mrs. Carle. She served them tea and seemed to enjoy their visit very much. I could tell that Dart was happy they went to see her. As a mother myself, I can imagine how much it must mean to her to know that her late son’s friends have not forgotten him.
Right now, Dart has a headache and is eagerly awaiting the 9:35 deadline for the first draft of the paper so that he can go out and get some dinner. While he waits on this quiet night in the newsroom, he begins his detailed explanation of how a paper is produced. He’s using some of the cheap and plentiful paper that the reporters use to file their stories. Dart guesses they use a ton of it every month, for no effort is used to conserve the stuff. Stories are typed, triple-spaced on one side of the paper with about an inch of margin all around. A full column inch of newspaper is equal to about seven feet of this paper, pasted together.
Just a note here – most of the stationery used by Dot and Dart for their letters must have been of pretty good quality, because it still looks almost new when I read it today. This paper, however, shows it’s age. It is a dark golden brown now, and the edges are so brittle that it must be handled with great gentleness lest it crumble to dust.
After describing the roles of the city editor and the copy readers, which wire services the PD uses, and the what “proofs” are, Dart gets to the good stuff. “At this point, for a few fateful seconds, the copy comes under the control of that lowest of all slaves, the COPY BOY, who rolls it up, puts it in a carrier, and sends it upstairs to the composing room, via a pneumatic tube.”
Of course, that’s not all the copy boys do, and Dart goes over the rest of their tasks with exacting detail.
Things have been so slow at the paper tonight that the only thing he’s had to help pass the time has been a series of phone calls from drunks and paranoid callers. One woman wanted to disclose details of a secret meeting of either the FBI or the Federal Reserve Bank which was supposedly taking place right under the editor’s nose in the Plain Dealer Building. When pressed for details, the story started to unravel. Another wanted to know the correct spelling of Czechoslovakia, and when Dart told her, she squealed that he had just won her “a considerable sum of money.”
“It’s almost midnight – quitting time for me tonight, so happy new year, Darling. And may it bring you everything good that you desire, and may the bad things (like me) be given to you in such a way that they don’t hurt. I love you Dot. Happy 1947.”