Feb. 16, 1939
Helen Plumb is home again. Her boat arrived in the harbor yesterday morning but because of fog and storm they did not dock until after dark last night. She evidently is not very fond of long sea voyages from what she says.
Well, all the letters you boys have sent home plus a few others that you have sent to others that have been copied have been mounted in a scrapbook so that those interested may conveniently read a chapter by chapter account of your adventur
es as they unfold. Included are the only photos so far obtained, and those were two Uncle Ted sent of Dan. And by the way, when you have anything intimate or personal to write it would be wise to follow Dan’s practice and put such messages on a separate sheet; otherwise if included on the same page with some item of general interest, it would force the whole page to be omitted from the scrapbook, to the general loss.
Just today, Dan, Bar (Barbara Plumb, Helen’s sister and Dan’s girlfriend) gave me your letter to read in which you describe your method of riding a mule. I enjoyed this so much that I made a copy to put in my scrapbook. I suppose you have a very good reason for not using your typewriter and making extra copies of your letters, and it does seem too bad that some of the interesting things you write to one person aren’t easily available to the other fellow who was making a collection in a scrapbook for future reference. What happened to your typewriter anyway?
I have decided to let Dick drop one of his subjects after talking with Miss Gallahue. He really has too much to do and ever since his attack of pneumonia has not been especially well. That means he will not be able to graduate this year, but it will also means that he will not have to take a summer course which I cannot afford to pay for if things don’t improve and would be far better for him not to have to bother with anyway. Then too, what could he do to get a job if he did get through school this June with no jobs running around looking for high school graduates. He might better spend his time in school. He informed me tonight he and Benny were fooling in the bus today and broke one of the windows which will cost $7.00 to fix or $3.50 apiece.
I think I forgot to
number my last letter which
should have been R-5, I think
so this is R-6.
I am getting pretty well fed up on this repeated failure of your employer to pay any attention to repeated promises re: salaries. Not one single cent has yet been forthcoming, and while I am especially glad for this reason Lad did not borrow money from some outsider based on his promise to pay back when he received his company check, by the same token it makes it especially hard for me, because there is not only the original and subsequent loans but the amounts bought from Meigs and Reads (Bridgeport Department stores) which are now due and payable and which I figured to take care of from what Dan had authorized me to take from his check until such time as Lad’s money began to come along. Now it looks as though nothing would be received at all from the N.Y. office. And their final promise was the end of this month but numerous other promises have been in the Rooseveltian manner and I have but faint hope that unless Uncle Ted can get them from down there we will all be out of luck. I don’t know, Lad, what understanding you had with Mr. McCarter (R. D. McCarten, Vice-President of INTERAMERICA, INC.), but I hope whatever it was is in writing. What he writes me is not what I understood you to say was the arrangement, but in answer to one of my letters Mr. McCarter writes: “As regards Alfred P. Guion’s salary, as he is working on the Venezuelan Fair business, we are arranging to pay him, together with other men on that work, directly in Caracas and are instructing our Caracas office to that effect” so it looks as though I would not get any part of Lad’s earnings from N.Y. Altogether, it’s a tough life.
I am looking forward to receiving soon the long letter Lad wrote when he got back from his trip to the Bush giving details of Stanley’s meeting with Livingstone, which I suppose will arrive not later than Monday.
Well, that’s about all the things I can think of to write about now. Not a very newsy letter, I am afraid. Perhaps it’s because my brain is not very alert due to the lateness of the hour and the distant calling of the four-poster. Anyway it’s good night, me hearties, till next time.
Tomorrow, I will be posting the final letters of condolence Grandpa received after the death of his wife. On Sunday I will begin a new adventure, This story involves Elizabeth (Biss to family and friends) and her watershed year living in St. Petersburg, Florida, with her Aunt Anne (Peabody) Stanley, helping to care for Anne’s two children, Donald and Gweneth.