Special Picture # 261 – A Memorable Day for Ced – 1920’s

 

 

 

 

The following is from the Memories of Cedric Duryee Guion (Ced, son #3). I honestly don’t know if this picture was taken on the same day or if they did this on more than one occasion. I can’t identify each of the individuals in this picture, but my guess is Grandma Arla and her sisters are there. I also think the little boy in front is Ced.

“We still have a series of pictures of the old Waverley in the backyard. Rusty and some of his friends, my mother and my aunts, all dressed up in these beautiful period costumes from the 1800’s that were in good condition in the attic. They all dressed up in these clothes and we took pictures of them in the Waverley. Rusty pretended to be the groom and Aunt Dorothy was the bride. Rusty had his stovepipe hat on and all the ladies were all dressed up. Of course, the Waverley didn’t have any tires on it but it looked nice.”

Images of Waverley Electric cars:   https://www.google.com/search?q=waverley+electric+car&rlz=1C1NHXL_enUS724US724&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjy_d2KouLVAhVFZCYKHTZmBkcQsAQINA&biw=1448&bih=689

History of the Pope-Waverley manufacturer: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pope-Waverley

Trumbull – Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians and other Bits and Pieces – March, 1942

Charlie Hall

Hi Ghost –

Yep. I met your friend Larry Sieck today – Nice guy – Says he planned to come “over” and see you this spring vacation – but since we have no spring vacation – yellow fever epidemic – he’s going to wait till next summer. Me likewise, darn it.

By the way, doesn’t ghost mean spook?

Tell R.P.G. (Dick) I’m expecting a letter any month now –

Farmboy Hall

This is a postcard, mailed March 1st from Ames, Iowa,  to Lad from Charlie Hall, one of the neighborhood boys, and a good friend of Dick’s.

***********************************

Trumbull, Conn., March 8, 1942

Dear Boys:

For one solid hour I have been listening to Jim Smith who came in just as I started to write you, and he has practically denuded my mind of any ideas I had to start with in the way of raw material for this my weekly news sheet.

I shall try to get back into running condition by discussing the weather – – a perfectly safe topic with which to get by the sensor – – except of course in a radio broadcast. And that gives me a lead off. I noticed an article in the paper recently to the effect that Gilbert and Sullivan operas were playing in New York, and knowing Dave’s enthusiasm for such, recalling my own boyhood days when my father took me to the big city to see a real show and realizing that Dave has been very helpful in working at the office in a real spirit of cooperation, it seemed a good opportunity for me to get back at him by taking in a performance sometime during the week when he had no school on account of the mid-year vacation. So we ups and decides to see the Mikado on Friday. It so happened that on that same day Dave had been invited to attend rehearsal for radio broadcasting at W.I.C.C. (Bridgeport Radio station) and in calling up to tell them he could not attend, they suggested he might, while in New York, like to take in a real broadcast at Radio City. Accordingly, he was given a card of introduction, which, when duly presented, got us into an hour’s performance with Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians – – 15 minutes of the regular Chesterfield broadcast and 45 minutes of his own. It was very interesting and quite enjoyable. Then Gilbert and Sullivan and then home where Lad met us at Bridgeport. Home and to bed.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mikado

But to get back to the weather. It has been like an April day, the thermometer in the shade registering about 60. The sun, while not brilliant, was warm. I got out the deck chair from the cellar for Aunt Betty and she spent about two hours on the cement terrace enjoying the first promise of summer. She and the birds have been quite chummy lately. A piece of suet hung on the lilac bush just outside the kitchen window (the one looking out toward the barn)  (near where the cellar door used to be that Rusty burst out of one night after sitting around the alcove fireplace and getting a dose of monoxide gas poisoning)  was what started the whole thing. This proved to be so popular with our little feathered friends that it was followed by scattered crumbs, etc., until we have quite a number of regular visitors, among them some pretty little slate gray birds which Dan or Rusty could probably identify if they were here.

Dick Guion

Dick still has not been able to get his car. The holdup has been caused by the fact that before he could obtain his registration, he had to show his birth certificate (a new rule I suppose because of the war, registration of aliens, etc.) I told him to write to Mount Vernon and the answer came back that they had no record of anyone by that name, the records being in the name of Lawrence Guion on that date born in the Mount Vernon hospital. To make the necessary change I had to make out a formal request which I mailed back to them Saturday. Perhaps it will come through Tuesday of next week. We had not registered Dan’s car so he has been using mine nights. And, one day last week, he reported one of my tires blew out. That, with the present tire situation, is a major calamity. So, I have filed a formal request to the tire rationing board for permission to buy two new tires, but I have little hope of their granting the request. They are pretty damn tough.

Page 2      3/1/42

Dave Guion

There was a special service at the church this afternoon under the auspices of the American Legion. The Choir sang and I understand Dan’s name was mentioned along with that of other Trumbull boys who had joined the colors. Tonight the Young People’s Society, of which Dave is still president, meets here at 7:30.

The Wardens turned amateur plumbers last week to relieve a stopped up toilet caused by Skipper having deposited with great gusto and cleverness four husky clothespins in the toilet bowl so lodged that the whole business had to be taken out, turned upside down and flushed with a hose before the necessary result was achieved.

Daniel (Dan) Beck Guion

Dan Guion

Dan, my boy, what is the latest dope on your income tax? I don’t know what the dope is on the situation where a boy is in the service, but in view of the fact that it is a tax on last year’s income when you were not in the service, it would seem to me to be the safest course to file your tax before the March 15th deadline and not take the chance of any violation of law with fine, etc. The Government, you know, permits quarterly payments on your tax.

Cedric (Ced) Duryee Guion

Ced Guion

Ced, I am beginning to think you have turned into the fabled glacier worm and that not until the glacier melts will we hear from you again. The last letter from you, believe it or not, was last year – – date, December 28th, and while Rusty has pinch hit for you a couple of times, which letters have been most welcome, it would be most welcome to try to read your scrawly handwriting again. There will undoubtedly be no lack of news material and we are living in hopes.

Rusty - Rusty at his painting cabin - 1979 (2)

Rusty Huerlin

Rusty, old scout, let not your literary efforts cease. Look at me and take heart how one poor benighted soul can reel off scads of paper and run one word after another without saying anything at all. Surely you can do better than that!

Aunt Betty Duryee

Aunt Betty Duryee

And now Aunt Betty is wiggling her foot back and forth as she sits by my side reading, which is a sure sign that it is time for me to go out and get her some supper.

A letter from Dan reports progress. He has been made acting corporal – – it didn’t take the General in command long to find out what these Guion boys are made of. Yes sir, he remarked to Dan, the ranks are not the place for a Guion except as a place to start from. He almost made a sharpshooter’s rating, but he happened to think of Barbara just as he pulled the trigger and missed. Ah, love!

There goes Aunt Betty’s foot again. I must stop. So long.

DAD

Tomorrow and Sunday, I’ll be posting Special Pictures.

On Monday, I’ll begin a week of letters on the subject of Lad’s upcoming wedding to Marian Irwin.

Judy Guion

 

Dear Glacier Ced, Sapper Dan and Rustless Rusty – Dan Shows Off Washington – February, 1942

View of the back of the Trumbull House from the barn.

Trumbull, Conn., Washington’s Birthday, 1942

            ) Glacier Ced

Dear   ) Sapper Dan

) Rustless Rusty

Following the W.K. custom whenever a holiday falls on a Sunday, we are celebrating the event tomorrow. (With no work at the office it would be silly to open anyway). Dave has no school but Lad and Dick work just as usual, just as a little gesture to friend Tojo.

The only incoming mail of interest this week was a short note from Rusty written Feb. 10th, mentioning the fact that it was exactly 2 weeks to a day that Ced left on his plane salvaging expedition which Rusty figured would take an additional two weeks to complete. Meantime I have heard nothing from Ced direct. In fact the last letter I got from the culprit was December 28th. I hope you won’t have so much to say when he gets back that he won’t know where to start and puts off writing still longer on that account.

Dan, I suspect, is himself learning a lot he didn’t know about the city of Washington in the process of showing his best girl all the sites. Barbara and Lois Hennigan planned to leave Trumbull yesterday by train for Washington where Dan was to meet them. The girls had made arrangements to stay overnight with friends of Lois’ and I suppose continue their sightseeing tour today, presumably starting home tomorrow. Dan was uncertain how much time off he could obtain but no matter how short they will enjoy it anyway.

There are just ordinary everyday things to write about, such as the furnace going out last night (temperature outside not being any too high either), and Dave and Paul spending the entire morning trying to get the thing into running order again. They had to take out the bricks that sealed up the lower part where the Stoker discharges ashes, clean out all the mock and cement up the hole again. Down in the ash removal channel, where the worm gear operates, they removed a steel bar about a quarter inch thick, 1 ½ wide and 14 inches long that in some strange manner got down where it all but wrecked the whole mechanism, the bar showing evidence by various nicks and smooth beveled edges where the worm gear had evidently tried to chew it up. The furnace seems to be running all right now but it’s hard to say how much damage has been done to its innards. In spite of several attempts to get someone here to look over the works and estimate on what it would take to renovate the entire heating system and make it function like a German fifth column or a Jap invasion plan.

Tuesday Trumbull is to have a blackout test at nine P.M., so if you’re flying over this way at that time don’t expect to see the front porch light on.

Lad was not home to dinner today having been invited down to the Page’s. Elizabeth dropped in at the office during the week and reported Marty had a very bad cold. No word since so I assume everything is all right. One more month of bad weather and then spring, and won’t I be glad. I have a cold myself and have been retiring early nights this week trying to lose it. Maybe this letter reflects a dull brain. If so, I hope it also reflects the love and affection of him who, dear sirs, has the honor to inscribe his initials to the bottom of this here script, in the old familiar way – –

A.D.G.

I’m continuing to post letters written in 1942 when Lad and Dick are at home working in a Bridgeport Plant, Ced is in Alaska, Dan is in the Army at Ft. Belvoir, VA and Grandpa continues to write to those away from Trumbull about local news and bits of interest.

 Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Cuthbut – News From Rusty and Business is Slow – February, 1942

pp pic 1

Trumbull, Conn., February 15, 1942

Dear Cathbut:

A surprise in the mail – – a letter from Magnus instead of Cedric; another surprise – – no letter at all from Dan. I have an idea that the Army caught up with him. In his last letter home he bemoans the fact that so far they had taught him only those things he had previously learned; now maybe the top sarg. Is showing him a few new tricks that make him want to hit the hay instead of bothering to write the folks back home. Incidentally, in the December, 1941 issue of Scientific American there is an article on how they train engineers at Ft. Belvoir. I have just finished reading it. As to Rusty’s letter, containing as it does real he- man stuff that would not make suitable reading forthe Aunt Betty’s and Barbara’s, it has been read only by the male members of the family, the circuit being completed by my sending it herewith to Ft. Belvoir, hoping it will get past the YMCA sensor. Rusty makes one revealing statement in his letter which may clear up some of the mystery that his been obscure since last December, which is the last time we have heard from Ced. He said something about cleaning out cabin. Now we have heard that their intention was to leave Rose Walsh’s but because of Rusty’s need for light a cabin did not seem indicated. However, it looks as though a cabin was finally decided upon but where it is, how big, how furnished and other pertinent details might still form the subject of a very interesting letter, n’est pas?

To Rusty, in his own right, and as a pinch-hitter for runaway Ced, I send best St. Valentine’s Day greetings and thanks for his typically Rustorian letter. No matter how fortune may buffet this veteran of many wars, his sense of humor remains unquenchable, one of the things, incidentally, we love him for. I sometimes wonder if the true measure of a man is not the number of heart aches he conceals under a smiling outside. Our Rusty stacks up high on this basis. So did Lincoln and so did another whose birthday also we commemorate this month in the inner quietness of our being.

Eb Joy sold out his station to Vernon Pert, and leaves with some Boy Scouts for a few days and then to Florida for a few weeks and then he enlists with a ski troop corps.

Business (it’s a shame to call it that) for the last few weeks has been terrible, one or two orders a day totaling four or five dollars. At this rate we are getting nowhere fast. I don’t know whether this is the new order and will be permanent or whether it is just a phase of readjustment from “business as usual” to a full wartime basis, but if it is not the latter and things don’t pick up soon, I will lose money more slowly by quitting work altogether and seeking some other job on a salary basis.

One day this week we had an air raid drill. Mantle’s house was supposedly bombed and Bob Shadick had two ribs broken. I helped as did also Dave, Ives, Reynolds, Laufer, etc., direct traffic so that they would not pile up on the main road and prevent fire apparatus and ambulance getting through. Evidently we did our job O.K. as we were congratulated by the judges on the result.

Dick registers tomorrow, Lad is deferred until April, Ced, per last news until this month, and Dan is in but silent. Dave is out but not silent. As for me, I just write letters which occasionally elicit an answer. During the interim I remain, yours truly,

DAD

The rest of the week will be filled with letters written by Grandpa in the early months of 1942, filled wit news of the boys anf local Trumbull news.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Ced and Rusty (2) – Business Developments – January, 1942

Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa)

Alfred Duryee Guion
(Grandpa)

Page 2 0f 1/4/1942

If you have not already done so by the time this letter reaches you, Ced, old scout, will you please be sure to let me know what packages you have received so that I can follow through from this end if anything I sent has not yet arrived. I sent a stainless steel sauce pan to Rusty to start housekeeping with, your watch which you sent home by Dan to be repaired, sealed beam headlights from Sears Roebuck, a box of Christmas knickknacks and a sweater from Forster Besse. While the total was far less that I wanted to send, perhaps it is all the more important that what did go should arrive safely. I did not renew subscription to the Sunday Post, first, because I did not know how much you cared for it (according to Dick he enjoyed the funnies from Seattle more), and second, your future movements seemed so uncertain that I thought I had better wait and ask you what you wanted done. Even if you go into service and are stationed at Fort Richardson, I suppose the mail would be forwarded to you from Box 822 anyway. Just say the word and I will do the necessary at this end.

Aunt Betty has just piped up and asked to have her love sent to you both.

At the office things are going a bit better or have for the past month or two. I am still having labor troubles but so far Dave has managed to get out what multigraphed letters we have had to produce and I am also able, with outside help, to keep up with the mimeographed jobs. Addressograph work has been quite heavy and I do have a girl that is doing this work very satisfactorily. During the year we have been able to pretty nearly clean up on our old debts, and, unless the nation at war throws another monkey wrench into the machinery, it looks as though we would continue. In this connection, the organization which Miss Platt left me to join, called the ADCRAFTERS, with offices just across the street, composed of the letter shop, run by Miss Platt, Art service (commercial) maintained by Mr. Thorpe, and commercial photography handled by the third member of the organization, has been having hard sledding. They originally had a printer in with them, but he proved to be no good so the rent that had been divided among the four of them had to be shared by three along with the other running expenses. It now develops that the photographer has been called into service and along with that fact, the bottom lately has been knocked out of the demand for artwork, so that Mr. Thorpe is seriously considering getting a job with some of the Bridgeport manufacturers who need his sort of service. This may throw Miss Platt on her own but with the doubtful course of future business in our line, it might be that she will be open for some arrangement whereby she will throw her little business in with mine and again be part of the Guion organization. If this happens, I may be content to let her carry on while I seek a job myself with some of the war industries here who are badly in need of men, due to the fact that so many are leaving to join up with Uncle Sam. All this, however, awaits the course of events.

To Rusty:

It was certainly good to get your letter. You don’t know how much I enjoyed hearing from you. Congratulations on the Dr. Romig painting. Please be sure to let me know about the result of the Court House petition, particularly if you get it. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. It will certainly mean the opening up of bigger things for you, which you richly deserve. Naturally I shall also be much interested to hear what results from the plans to seek other quarters. I suppose this depends somewhat on what happens in Ced’s case. It is good to know you are together. I hated to think of his being all alone so far from friends and home. As to your own personal affairs I have a hunch things are going to come out O.K. And if I can help, you know the offer still stands, to any extent within my power. I would be very happy if I could do anything that would help things to come out of the way you want them.

To Ced:

Write when you can, old son of mine. I’ll be listening.

DAD

Tomorrow, a letter to Lad from a friend from Venezuela, who is now back in the states. Thursday and Friday, another letter from Grandpa to Ced.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Ced and Rusty (1) – New Year’s Eve – January, 1942

Judy_0003

January 4, 1942

Dear Ced and Rusty:

I am so used to writing to more than one of my boys that Rusty will have to substitute, although as far as “love and affection” goes, he fits right into that category anyway. Indeed, as far as realism goes, the fact that I had a very welcome letter from Rusty this week, penned, I suppose, from the very room that housed and still houses a portion of the Guion clan, adds strength to the fact. Rusty’s vivid power of description – – Ced’s tramping across the floor in his jockstrap, his lusty snores, all brought back well-remembered recollections. Somehow or other I had a feeling that trampings ten times as heavy and snores ten times as stentorius would be more than welcome if I could hear them right here in little old Trumbull for a change.

Well, the holidays are over and things have settled down to a 1942 basis. Before bidding it a final adieu, however, there are a few facts to record. New Year’s Eve Anne phoned from New Rochelle that you would like to come up with the children and stay overnight. They arrived in time for supper. The combined party with Paul’s friends did not materialize because Paul (Warden, renting the apartment with his wife Katherine) , a few days previously, developed a very bad sore throat, swollen glands, etc., and was in bed, unable to talk above a whisper and only today has been up and around. However, most of the steady visitors were on hand, and while Aunt Betty and I did not stay up until three or four or whatever time it was the last of the revelers (Don Stanley was the last one in) had retired, there was enough noise and what goes with it to issue in the New Year in the approved fashion. Friday the Stanley’s left for Vermont where Anne felt it necessary to go in order to make financial arrangements so that she could continue on with the children’s schooling in Virginia.

Last night it snowed quite hard and today looks like an Alaskan landscape. The boys who were out in their cars last night had difficulty in coming up the driveway. Today Lad took Dave down to WICC (a Bridgeport Radio station) where he took part in a program sponsored by the American Legion, on Pan-American activities, acted out by students selected from Harding, Central and Bassick. (The three local High Schools) The new ruling that has gone into effect prohibiting the sale of tires here and I suppose all over the country, has caused me to wonder a bit what I will do. I tried to get my spare retreaded recently but was unable to do so because the sidewalls were not strong enough. Lad was lucky enough to get two tires from George Knapp the other day. There is some compensation in the fact that, as both Lad’s car and my own are identical models, the tires are interchangeable and in a pinch we can help out the other fellow.

Tomorrow, the rest of this letter. Wednesday will bring a letter to Lad from a friend in Venezuela who is back in the states, and Thursday and Friday, another letter from Grandpa to Ced.

Judy Guion