Trumbull, Conn. March 23, 1941 A-122
Dear Guions everywhere, just everywhere:
Greetings from Trumbull, this first Sunday of spring. And it is beginning to look like it too. There is still snow on the ground, in patches, but it is bright and sunshiny with the promise of warmer weather in the air. It makes one feel like getting out the seed catalog and planning the wonderful garden, that true human nature, is always better in prospect that in actuality.
Carl and Ethel are back. Had a wonderful time and heartily recommend the same trip to all and sundry. I have invited them both to dinner here Tuesday.
Dave and I took in the movies last night (Jack London’s “The Sea Wolf” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0034162/ ) and when we got home again we found a note from Bruce Lee inviting us to Westport for Sunday dinner today, but as Dave had made a previous arrangement to go to Waterbury with the Young People’s Group, I had to phone Bruce that if he could extend the time and give us a little more warning, we would look forward to a future engagement, which he assured me would be forthcoming.
Last Sunday Dave and I took the train to New York to attend the meeting with Aunt Betty, Elsie and Mrs. Burlingame. It seems that affairs had reached a point financially which necessitated their either going out of business entirely, getting some other nearby rental at a much lower figure (which was impossible as none were available) or raising additional capital in an attempt to weather the crisis, hoping for better things to come. What it came down to was a proposal that Aunt Betty put up enough of her securities as collateral to enable the shop to borrow an additional $1000. This Aunt Betty, in her altruism and supreme optimism, readily agreed to do. I pointed out as brutally as I could that if it was her life savings she was endangering, gambling $1000 on the hope of success, but she still felt she would rather do this than see the institution she had created go up in smoke, unshaken in her belief that everything would come out all right. Not having this sublime faith myself, I am rather fearful of the result, but it is possible I am too conservative. We shall see.
I miss poor old Mack. It was my wont on Sunday afternoons in preparing to write my weekly Clarion, to get out my materials and place what I was not immediately using, on the floor beside my typewriter stand. Invariably Mack would lie down on these papers and would have to be dislodged when I came to the necessity of using papers for the second page. I feel I would almost like to be bothered again in this manner.
The first thing Carl did when he got back was to fire his assistant, Mitchell. The latter had promised he would not drink when Carl was away, but the flesh was weak, and this combined with a growing carelessness in his work, led to a showdown, and now Carl is looking around for an assistant. Labor, however, is becoming scarce and it is becoming increasingly difficult to find reliable young fellows that are willing to work for moderate sums when the factories are paying defense wages.
I now have my Buick back again. Labor and parts cost me $32. Ouch !
Tomorrow, an individual letter to Lad, written the same day, along with a personal letter from a the friend he is planning a short trip with before he leaves Venezuela. Other individual letters will fill out the week.