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

 

Special Picture # 257 – The Swimming Hole at San Tome Camp, Venezuela – @ 1941

 

Lad at the San Tome Camp in Venezuela

The crew at San Tome Camp in Venezuela

Friends sitting on the dock at San Tome Camp in Venezuela

The Swimming Hole at San Tome Camp in Venezuela

Tomorrow, another Special Picture.

On Monday, we’ll go back to letters from 1942 as Lad and Dan worry about the draft.

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 Hermit (2) – The Office is Busy – December, 1941

Ced @ 1945

Page 2 of 12/14/41

While Lad has heard nothing from the draft board as to his status, and saying very little as he does, I have an idea he is prepared to go into it whenever the need arises. He does not feel the way you or Dan do about the ethics of the thing anyway. Myself, I shall have to steel myself to the thought that Lad and Dan and you and Dick will all be in it and if it lasts long enough, Dave also. In fact if they are going to draft folks up to 64 as proposed in the latest suggestion before Congress I may be in it myself, and that will make it unanimous. I cannot help but wonder what Mother would feel and say about things as they are opening up as far as her children are concerned.

I am still having a hectic time at the office. Difficulty in obtaining labor to turn out what work comes my way. Material shortages are threatening in the paper and Addressograph plate field, and it is too soon yet to say what influence the war is going to have on my business. Enlistments and draft calls will still further thin the ranks of men in the higher brackets in Bridgeport industries. According to Paul Warden, who is in Remington, a great many of the men at the heads of departments are leaving that company. Maybe I’ll have to be looking for a job somewhere myself to take care of taxes, etc.

Elsie informs me that business at the shop since last week has practically stopped in spite of the nearness of the Christmas season. Mrs. Burlingame, who has been in the hospital for an operation, is getting better but for several weeks Elsie has had to run the business alone herself.

It snowed yesterday for the first time this year. Lad remarked it was the first snowstorm he had seen in three years. It rained all last night so there is no snow left today but it is rather cold nevertheless. The furnace is not working too well this year. Maybe it’s a case of old age, hardening of the arteries, or something. Dan wants me to use some of his savings to put in a new furnace before the government orders a ban on use of metal for this purpose. I have asked a heating man to come in and give it a look-see with an estimate on what a new plant would cost.

You are cordially invited to attend a joint Guion-Warden New Year’s party with the three-fold purpose of making whoppee for some guests of the Wardens, to commemorate Red’s birthday and to celebrate Dick’s homecoming. Wouldn’t it be great if my great tall distant son accepted this invitation. What a start for the new year for his Dad!

But there, all dreams must have an end and so must letters. If you can fix up some mathematical formula about the strength of good wishes, particularly at Christmas tide, being as the square of the distance separating father from a well-beloved son, without an X X denoting unknown quantities, I wish you would figure out a good one that I could work out and send to you. The answer in any language would be  “much love from”

DAD

Tomorrow, another letter from Grandpa to Ced in Alaska.

More  from the Autobiography of Mary E Wilson (and another daughter) on Saturday and Sunday.

Next week, letters from 1943 when the boys are serving Uncle Sam in their own unique ways.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Hermit (1) – Attitudes Towards The War – December, 1941

Judy_0003

Trumbull, Conn., December 14, 1941

Dear Hermit:

So they all up and left you, heh! It is interesting to speculate on one’s reactions under the circumstances. See how near I come imagining the various phases one goes through. In some ways you and I are temperamentally more alike than the others so perhaps a little introspection on the way I think I might feel may come within shooting distance of the way you may react. Perhaps the first reaction after the bustle and tenseness of seeing the last brother off would be a sense of relief and a feeling that now you can do whatever you want whenever you want in your own way without feeling that anyone else’s feelings have to be regarded. This might last for a week or maybe a little longer, after which it might seem a bit cheerless coming home to an empty room with no one to know or care or exchange small talk with. This will either induce you to seek other friends or outside recreation unless you are too busy with work or other individual activities to do much more than sleep when you get in. Anyway, as it will be your first experience of the kind it will be interesting to note your own reactions. In time, like everything else, you will get used to it, unless the war situation hastens your induction into service and then of course you will be too busy with that to have time to plan your own activities. By the way, did the Jap attack make you feel any different about getting into the service to defend our own country? Short as the time has been I sense quite a change in the feeling of many who up to last Sunday were opposed to giving up their time to what they considered was sort of wasted in training for something that did not look as though it would be needed. Even Dan, just today, said he did not feel the same as he did before, now that there was actually something tangible to prepare against, although he did still believe the necessity would never have arisen if we had tended strictly to our own business and not try to run other nations on our own ideas of morality. As no letter came from you last week I don’t know your reaction to Dick’s leaving nor the effect on your feelings or that of Anchorage folks in general on the rising Sun’s hot ray that scorched Pearl Harbor without warning a week ago today.

Such as it is, I got off a Christmas box to you last night. I am disappointed in it and I fear that you will be also. In fact so much uncertainty has attended your future doings and there has been such poor mail service in hearing promptly from you that things did not go as they normally would. Even the headlight I ordered sent to you from Sears Roebuck in Seattle was delivered to me from that city and had to be reshipped to Anchorage. I also mailed your watch which Dan brought back to be repaired, but I have much doubt as to whether any of these things will reach you by the 25th.

Have heard no word from Dick and I am wondering if war conditions will make any difference in the boat’s scheduled time of arrival and whether after he reaches Seattle transportation or blackouts or other circumstances attendant on the outbreak of war on the Pacific coast will necessitate any radical change of plans on his part and whether he will be able to get home by Christmas.

Tonight Dan is giving a talk on Alaska illustrated with colored views before some young people’s society of the Stratford Congregational Church. Barbara and Dave went along also, and possibly Lad and Babe.

Page 2 of this letter tomorrow, and on Friday, another letter to Ced from Grandpa.

On Saturday and Sunday, Mary E Wilson writes about the move to Trumbull and another daughter.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Network Stations (3) – Life in Brazil – September, 1945

This is the final portion of a 4-page letter from Grandpa, informing the rest of the family about the lives of Dave, Dan and Dick and Jean.

 

And Jean, who is probably the American belle of Brazil, writes: “Did you think we had forgotten all about you? We haven’t, honestly. Just that we’ve been so busy fixing up our house and keeping up with all the social obligations that I haven’t had a chance to write. We are quite popular, you know! We spent quite a lot of time out at the base —  it’s more of a necessity than a desire. We haven’t a refrigerator yet so we can’t keep food for any length of time. Once in a while though, we get a few cans of vegetables and a can of meat and come home for dinner. It is a little hard cooking, tho, because we have only a small gasoline stove, but it’s fun. Dick usually goes to the base at 7 and I get a ride in at 11. This gives me a chance to do a few of the necessary things around the house. I spend every afternoon sitting at Dick’s desk knitting or talking to some of the Brazilians. They’re trying just about as hard as Dick is to teach me Portuguese. I’m afraid I’m a hopeless case but I’m trying anyway. All the Brazilians I’ve met so far seem to be very nice — they go out of their way to do things for us. Being here with Dick is almost as good as civilian life. I see him practically all day during the week. He gets off at 4:30 and doesn’t have to report back until eight the next morning. Sunday is his day off. It’s really wonderful. We’ve been out almost every night — most of the time we stay at the base and see the movies or go to N.C.O. club where they have an outdoor dance floor. It is wonderful dancing under the stars. I’ve learned the Samba and the March. They’re lots of fun. The Polish couple that Dick mentioned in one of his letters lives a block away from us so we see quite a lot of them. They both speak English so it’s a lot more enjoyable for me being with them. One night we visited a Brazilian family. The man spoke English but his wife didn’t, so we sat and smiled at each other all evening. This same man took us to the Club last night — quite an affair. The Brazilian General and the American Consul were there. There were five

Page 4    9/16/45

American officers but Dick was the only enlisted man who was invited — that made him feel pretty good. Tomorrow night the enlisted men are giving a Labor Day dance at one of the Brazilian Clubs, where there is a beautiful tile swimming pool. There will be a swimming meet during the dance — it should be fun. I’ll probably be the only American girl there because the only other wives who are here are officers wives and that’s only two. I’m sort of getting used to being the only American. I felt uncomfortable at first with everyone staring at me. They still stare but I don’t mind it so much. The people in Portaleza are pretty poor and about 40% or more of them are illiterate. They can’t even sign their names. The school problem here is really bad. They have to pay for both grammar and high school. Most families can’t afford it so the children just don’t go. Three-quarters of the people are suffering from mal-nutrition. Before I got here I was under the impression that the cost of living was very low but it isn’t. Food, clothing and everything else is very high. Most of the people don’t even wear shoes and if they do, they’re just a scuff made of cheap leather or wood with a piece of material over the toes to hold it on. I get the creeps every time I go downtown and see the conditions that exist here. The Government does nothing at all for the poor people –if they can’t get work that pays them enough to live, they die in the streets. Out where we live tho, all the rich people have homes. It’s really a very pretty section. Our house isn’t one of the finest but it’s quite nice. We’re going to try to get some pictures of it soon and when we do, will send some to you. The weather is ideal –there’s always a strong breeze from the water. We live about a mile from the beach. Received your weekly letter the other day. Now I know how much that letter means to the boys. It made me feel a little closer to home. Dick gave me a beautiful Ronson cigarette lighter the day I got here. It has my monogram on it –JMG — pretty snazzy. Love to all. Jean.

Now for a few asides, comments, remarks, criticisms, insults or what have you. Dave, your letter cleared up a number of points I have been wondering about. The comments I would make to most of the things are obvious. I’m thinking the way people back home here are kicking up a fuss with Congress in the Army that you will be home long before Christmas, 1946. Dan, Airmail from your and might also cut down the 16 day transit time for regular mail. Last week I got off to you and adapter made to Lad’s specifications of aluminum by the Singer Mfg. So. Through  Zeke’s courtesy. I tried to send it by air mail but P.O. said no. I also sent a box with a couple of cans of meat for the Rabets, a few items for the Senechals and a couple of items for Paulette. More clothing items will be sent this week. All on the list have either been purchased or ordered, excepting the watch and wool. I am also greatly elated about the grandchild news. I am hoping it can be born here in little old Trumbull, but as you say, we’ll just have to wait for developments. Jean, enclosed is Paulette’s letter to you, with translation by Dan. Your check was mailed last week. The Washington phone calls totaled $4.85, if you must know. Thanks for the ration books.

Next week, along with new quotes (I hope), I will probably have an account of the APG’s trek through upper N.E. and N.Y. Coming up, one birthday for Dave. Hope he gets that raise, or better yet, an H.D., along with that phantom camera I have not yet been able to find for him. Dan, the latest, according to a Paris radio report, is that Adolph Hitler is hiding out in Bridgeport, Conn. I haven’t had any orders recently from a man named Schickelgruber so I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the rumor. I’m sneezing off now until next week.

DAD

Tomorrow and Sunday, I’ll post more of the autobiography of Mary E. Wilson, as she and Archie move to Trumbull and expand their family again.

Next week, I’ll be posting letters written in 1941. The war is getting closer and all the boys are concerned about their draft status.

Judy Guion