The election is over and Grandpa has lost his bid to continue leading Trumbull as it’s First Selectman. He remains on the Board of Selectmen but the position doesn’t mean very much. Lad, his oldest son, is working in Venezuela as a trouble shooter Mechanic traveling from camp to camp repairing trucks and equipment the other mechanics are having problems with. He doesn’t get to write home as much as Grandpa would like, but Grandpa continues to write to him every week, sending news of the home-folks. I think it helps them both feel connected.
Lad at one of the Camps, this may be Pariguan or another location.
October 8th, 1939
Dear Oil King:
There is very little to record of interest, as I sit down to ramble on in conversation (monologue) to my absentee son. So here goes as the small things that made up everyday life for the past week occurred to me. Due to the fact that business is still very slow and that George Elliott has apparently been very inattentive to his job lately I was forced to tell him this week that we could dispense with his services. That leaves George Lipovsky and Miss Denes and myself the entire Guion Company. There has been talk about business picking up but we have not felt it in our line. And as my only source of income now is what you send, what Ced contributes, the $20 a month from the apartment rent and what I get from the office (eight dollars last week) it looks like a lean winter. The loss of $165 a month from the Selectmen’s salary naturally puts quite a crimp in one’s plans. By the same token, the $50 a month which you so generously authorized me to extract from your salary looms up quite important in the scheme of things and makes me exceedingly grateful that I have the kind of sons that generously help out without making me feel too guilty about using their hard-earned cash. Incidentally I receive checks regularly from your New York office at the end of each month.
The ”gang” went up to the Danbury Fair yesterday. It was an ideal fall day and they report having a good time. There was no particular excitement, although there was one of the drivers that crashed through the fence before they arrived. I did not go as I had several jobs to do (1) wax the kitchen linoleum (2) vacuum clean the alcove, living room, lower hall, upper hall, my room, bathroom (3) rearrange the furniture in my room, including the extension of electric light wires which, because of a faulty wire used, caused a fuse to blow out. The boys stopped on the way back at the Pines and watched the dancing. Dave went to the movies with Mr. Keating last night.
Ethel (Bushey, who marries Carl) came in a minute ago with Carl (Wayne) and said that Marie Page was engaged to a fellow named Herbert Hoey, who lives on Long Island. He is a graduate of Harding and he thought you might have met him.
Dan came home Friday and reported he had had a blowout on the way up with the Packard but got along all right with the spare. Ced had been expecting tire trouble for some time but this was the first trouble of this sort the car has had since you left. I took Dan’s portable typewriter down to Mr. Mullins this week. It was in pretty bad shape after going through the tropics and cost $10 to fix up.
Davis, the town’s new First Selectmen has taken office and I am out. Certainly I am still one of the Selectmen but it does not mean much. Sexton is still keeping up his campaign of destruction. He is now raking up an item of $75 which was received by Mr. Bradley in return for the sale by the town of the pump to raise water from the Town Hall well and which was no longer needed when they installed city water. Unfortunately the treasurer’s books do not show receiving the money, so Sexton implies of course that the money was stolen. How it will come out I have no idea. Luckily he has been unable to find anything on me yet, but I suppose it is possible he may uncover some innocent mistake of some sort he can enlarge upon until it looks like a major crime.
Tomorrow I will post the rest of this letter. On Wednesday and Thursday, a letter from Lad’s former boss, Cliff Wells, and his wife. On Friday, a Memo to the Socony-Vacuum Camp at Pariaguan, Estado Anzoategui, where Lad is living.