B007RT1UH4 EBOK (7 page)

To Edith Gaddis

Saint Louis, Missouri

[1 June 1942]

Dear Mom—

Well everything still under control—and June 9
^th
drawing closer every day! Boy it’s going to be good.

Still painting down in the hold, tho today I worked out on the shore line.

I think I’ll have enough money when I leave here to start home—I get paid Friday the 5
^th
and and have some debts to collect so think it will turn out all right

Am quite sure I won’t be home by next week-end—right now I expect to work through Saturday—then off 8 hours, go back out at midnite ’til 8 Sunday morning—then plan to drive down to Cape Gerardo about 135 miles south, with some of the boys with whom I work here on the boat. They’re a swell bunch and have been wanting me to go down for some time—so we’ll go Sunday morning—and back Monday afternoon; then perhaps see Granga Monday or Tuesday nite—(preferably Monday evening) and leave next day for Chicago. So if you’ll see what her hotel will be so I can look her up Monday nite (or Tuesday nite if this isn’t possible) it will work out fine.

Well it won’t be too long now—I expect to stay in Chicago—and around in Indiana and perhaps Sandusky Ohio—however that trip is uncertain—and say is Henry driving a school bus?? George said so.

Love

Bill

Cape Gerardo: i.e., Cape Girardeau.

Sandusky Ohio: WG’s journal indicates he met (or intended to meet) a Carole Potter there on 16 June.

To Edith Gaddis

The Mark Twain Hotel

Eighth and Pine Streets

Saint Louis

[7 June 1942]

Dear Mom—

Well can you believe it?! Free at last! And in a hotel room with bed! and tub! and easy chair! And tonite I go out and sink my teeth into a thick juicy red steak—haven’t had any red meat since I started!

And say but these dress pants feel good after a month and a half of those heavy work pants!

I heard from Gram and planned to meet her the 13
^th
in Indianapolis—but now is changed to Keokuk, Iowa the 9
^th
—so I’ll see her there and then wander on east thru Chicago and Indianapolis etc. and home—I don’t know when but probably around the end of the week of the fourteenth. But will let you know when I’m definately headed for New York.

And say, I forgot to mention—but you might write Dr. Gumere or some such—Mr Garrett’s friend; he’s the dean of admissions at Harvard and probably the boy who’d know.

Well I’ll write and keep you posted—and you’ll probably get a letter from Gram soon telling you I look ragged or something—but I haven’t changed a bit—my watch still fits just like it did and pants etc—I’ve hit a ‘bottle neck’ and my regular life ab’d the boat apparently hasn’t helped—or done bad—I guess I’m lucky—

Love

Bill

Dr. Gumere: Richard M. Gummere (1883-1969), Dean of Admissions at Harvard from 1934 to 1952. Mr. Garrett is unidentified.

To Edith Gaddis

[
Returning to New York on 18 June, WG changed his mind about returning to Harvard and headed back west on 18 July.
]

Cheyenne, Wyoming

[25 July 1942]

Dear Mom—

Thanks so much for the letter and check. And I do hope that you haven’t wondered too much about me—I haven’t had a chance to write, and that last letter I didn’t have a 6¢ stamp.

At any rate here it is Saturday evening and having seen a wonderful rodeo and ‘Frontier Days’ we’re going north tomorrow—to his ranch just for a little—a few days—then back south I guess.

And now a tale of which I don’t know what you’ll think. You see we got up here late Friday evg., met a couple of cowboys in town, and proceeded to celebrate ‘Frontier Days,’ until, Mother, we were taken to the local ‘calabozo’ to spend the rest of the night. Don’t worry—we’re out and everything’s all right—no fingerprints etc.—and
quite
an experience. You know a newspaper-man must see things first hand—and the Cheyenne jail is something to see! I am getting rid of the bed-bug itches I acquired and will soon be back to normal.

Don’t know when I’ll write again as mail is infrequent from the ranch—but everything’s fine—

Love

Bill

Frontier Days: a celebration held in Cheyenne on the last ten days of July ever since 1897. calabozo: Spanish for jail.

To Edith Gaddis

Cheyenne, Wyoming

[4 August 1942]

Dear Mom—

Well back at last to civilization—electric lites and running water etc. But I mean that ranch was the real stuff!! We were finished branding (yes we—you should have seen me holding down the back ends of those calves!) about Friday but H—convinced me I ought to stay thru the weekend so I left this morning and came down to Cheyenne—a little over two hundred miles. The ranch was swell tho—and so were the ‘boys’—his father and two uncles—and I saw and did it all—branding, herding, driving cattle & horses, fixing fence, killing rattle snakes (!), washing dishes, and myself less frequently, and riding most of the time, and it was wonderful.

I plan on going down to Denver tomorrow—we’ll see if Mr. Keating is there or Pueblo or where—then down to Colorado Springs to see this Harvard ‘classmate’ of mine for a day or two—then if Mr Keating’s around I’ll contact him. That’s as far as real plans go, but expect to continue on down to Tucson after this.

Am trying to keep expenses at a minimum—because I do want to get some new clothes when I come home in the fall, as these two shirts and levis are all I’ve gotten in recent times. Harold did run me in a little, as he was broke when we hit Denver and I staked him to various stuff—and then the rodeo and room etc in Cheyenne, but it was worth it with that time at the ranch to pay off! And speaking of clothes I was looking at cur[rent]
Esquire
today, and gee—I love this west etc. etc. but do you think there is any chance of Harvard in the fall? The trip is swell but it is really sort of escapism—I do want to go back there this fall more than anything, and after I talk to Franny in Colo. Spgs. I hate to think how I’ll feel. Gosh I’d kiss the ground Dr. (?) Williams walks on or blow his brains (??) out if I thot either would do any good. The more I think of a southern college the less I think of it—ye gods I could wear coats—even sweaters—even a sterno stove under my bed——I really think they were utter fools to let such a point drive them to such drastic lengths. In short I am still quite disgusted but hopeful—‘bloody but unbowed’—and Mom if there is
anything
you can do—tell ‘Byard’ I spent a nite in jail and have been branding calves—it may help.

Love

Bill

Mr. Keating: unidentified.

Franny: Francis Ware, a roommate at Harvard later.

Harold: the H—mentioned in the first paragraph, but otherwise unknown.

Dr. Williams: unidentified. ‘bloody but unbowed’: from the once-popular poem “Invictus” by British writer William Ernest Henley (1849–1903) expressing determination: “Under the bludgeonings of chance / My head is bloody, but unbowed.”

‘Byard’: unidentified.