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 – Dear Remnants of a widely scattered family (1) – News From Ced – November, 1945

Trumbull, Conn., November 4, 1945

Dear Remnants of a widely scattered family:

Lad came home again this weekend but still has nothing definite to report as to his future with the U.S. Army. He has presented to the Army authorities a request from Socony-Vacuum(the company he worked for in Venezuela from 1939-1941) asking that he be released so they can employ him in a civilian capacity after giving him some training. Possibly when next he comes home, he may have some news on this. According to newspaper reports, which of course have not proven 100% correct in the past, Dick should be released when he finally goes back to report the day before Thanksgiving (if you please). That leaves Dan still with a flock of “firsts” to his credit — first in the Army, (referring to you boys, of course), first in France, first to marry outside of the USA, first to be discharged, first to get a post-war job, but alas, NOT first to come home. Oh, well, you can’t have everything.

And Ced let loose a small atomic bomb in P.O. Box 7 this week — the nice kind of explosion, and small only in a relative sense. He writes he expects to get home for Thanksgiving — but here, I’ll let him speak for himself: (letter dated Oct. 24th from Anchorage, received Oct. 31st.) “Planning to have Thanksgiving dinner in Trumbull, I hope. Probably arriving in a new 2-place Taylorcraft. It is now 9 P.M. I am due at work at 5 A.M. tomorrow to send out the Juneau trip, so will make this brief. There is more work for me to accomplish before I leave than I can ever hope to do and I am about to go stark-raving mad. The Ski Club is stirring around on winter sports and election of officers, I should do some work on the Buick, straighten out all my clothes and belongings, as Morgans plan to sell their house. They are going to settle near Los Angeles after Chuck leaves the Army. (Chuckie died of appendicitis two months ago but two weeks ago, a new boy was born named Douglas. I will stop off for a visit with them in Seattle. Of course I have not enough time to do even the ski club work, as affairs at Woodley’s have been in turmoil and we’ve had lots of overtime. My finances are in a sad state and I may have to send you a hasty “gimme” wire one of these days, that I am hopeful of making the grade — at least till I get back there. I’d hate to ask you for funds, especially after the island deal — isn’t it fine to have the island, tho? We’ve had cold and blowing and snow this last week — miserable fall weather. See you all soon. Ced”

Now that, dear children, is a sample of a short letter that says a whale of a lot, and what a big wave of gladness it brought with it. Of course Ced, we’d like to hear all the details about the plane and your plans for the trip, but that all can wait until you get here, under the circumstances, particularly as with all you evidently have to do, there won’t be time for lengthy correspondence, so even if we don’t hear from you again until you glide down at the Stratford Airport, it will be O.K. incidentally, I know a Trumbull family that would like to be on hand to see you make that landing at the Stratford Airport. And of course if you need funds, your dad hasn’t failed yet to come across when called upon and it’s rather late in the day for him to start anything different. My credit seems to be still good at the bank even when the balance gets microscopic. It’s worth waiting a long time to get a letter such as this, with that kind of news and I wouldn’t mind even waiting as long as that again if it brought equally good news with it, each time.

Page 2   11/4/45

One of the boys that was with Lad’s outfit in France, came home with him this weekend. He is quite an amateur photographer and has just come in and snapped a picture of me at the typewriter writing you my weekly letter. If it comes out O.K., I shall send you a copy.

Grandpa, Marian and Lad, Jean and Dick  and Aunt Betty Duryee, in the kitchen of the Trumbull House.

Last time he came home with Lad he took a family group in the kitchen which came out well and when he goes to his home in Chicago, probably for Thanksgiving dinner, he expects to make up some prints. And speaking of photos, Dan makes a plea to send him recent photos of you all, and sets a good example by sending one of himself which I am sending on to you, and hope you will reciprocate. Dan’s address is Mr. Daniel B. Guion, O.T.C.Q.M., UST Graves Reg. Serv. Hq., TSFET (rear), APO 887, c/o P.M., New York City.

I have not the slightest idea what all these initials stand for but here’s a stab in the dark. (Maybe someday Dan will enlighten us), Officers Temporary Corps, U.S. Quartermaster, U.S. Temporary Graves Registration, Temporary Service Force, European Theatre.

For the rest of the week, I will have additional portions of this five-page letter.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Dan and Ced (1) – A Long Snake With Bulges – Feb. 1, 1942

Dan Guion, the first one in.

Trumbull, Conn. Feb. 1, 1942

Dear Dan and Ced:

Over the months, the number of carbon copies comprising my weekly letters waxes and wanes. If I should draw a diagram of them over the course of a year it would look like a long snake with bulges here and there, some larger, some shorter, some quite bulgy as though said snake had swallowed an ox and others and some, like the present, with two boys away, indicating the swallowing of only a rabbit or so.

For your information, Ced, Dan, after leaving Shelton, or Derby, went to Fort Devens near Ayer, Mass., where he stayed for just a week. Then came a postal dated January 28th, reading as follows: “Here it is! Engineers Replacement Center, Belvoir, Va. I am one of about 50 who is being sent to the destination of my choice. Most recruits go where they are needed, willy-nilly. Luck, wot? Belvoir is about 20 miles from Washington, D.C. I don’t know any particulars of my address or station but the future will soon disclose my lacking details. I leave Devens at 5 PM tonight (Wed) via (presumably) Pullman.” And that is the last I have heard directly from my soldier son except that Dave mentioned Barbara having received a card from Dan saying he had reached Washington.

Last week’s mail also brought a card from the local Draft Board granting Lad a B-1 rating until April. I had heard that both the President and Vice President of Producto had gone to bat for Lad on the basis that the company is doing 100% war work, and he, as head of the shipping department, fills an important post – – and incidentally filling it in a manner, so I learned, better than it has been filled by any previous man on the same job.

And as for you, Ced, my erring one, you know what the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina, don’t you? “It’s a long time between drinks” and that applies to letters from Alaska. I just live on hopes as each day sees me fumbling with eager hands at the combination of P.O. Box 7. It is well, as some poet once remarked, that hope springs eternal in the human breast. There is one thing worse than no letter at all and that is to peek through the glass, see in the box and airmail envelope from Alaska, and then find it to be addressed to an absent brother and have the latest news tantalizingly locked up inside and legally padlocked by Uncle Sam. That to my opinion calls for the exhibition of remarkable qualities of self control on the part of one whom modesty prevents mentioning by name. As soon as we know Dan’s mailing address this small piece of torture will be forwarded to him. But for future guidance, don’t think you have written the letter home under such circumstances.

Needless to say, Dan, we were all jubilant here to learn the news conveyed by your card. So you ascribe it to luck, hey? Well, I’m not so sure. The Century Dictionary defines luck as “that which happens to a person by chance”. I don’t recall hearing that any of the great philosophers have ever written an essay on luck, but it might profitably be a subject for investigation. What proportion of luck consists in having improved passed hours and days so that when opportunity delivers its w.k. knock, there is not so large an element of chance in the preparedness of the person after all. The whole subject would be worth a little more probing. It might form the substance of a fireside chat – not the White House kind, but one of those interesting topics of conversation that to my mind are not indulged in as much as they merit, being crowded out of place by clever wisecracking (which is pleasing and has its place but should not be indulged in to the exclusion of all else), neighborhood gossip, argumentative subjects like the war, politics, religion, etc., but an opportunity to explore the other fellows mind and stimulate some extemporaneous thoughts and possibly unearthing points of view quite new and unique. Someone once said the art of conversation was a lost art and I have wondered if he did not mean something similar to what I have tried to get across above.

Tomorrow, I’ll finish this letter. 

On Saturday and Sun day, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Lad Arrives in L.A. – September, 1943

Lad and Marian – Pomona, CA

Now Grandpa knows that Lad arrived safely back in California. In his typical analytical style, he tells the whole story.

September 22, 1943

South Pasadena, California

Dear Dad:

I arrived in LA at 4:10 AM and, so help me, Marion was there to meet me. In fact, I’m writing this at her house and this is her pen and ink. Here is the story. Bridgeport to New York – O.K.  –  left Grand Central at 6:30 PM and after a pretty good rest arrived in Chicago at noon. I had till 6:30 for the train to LA so I went to the Santa Fe-Harvey office. Got a job in a few minutes on a train leaving on Tuesday at 7 AM. So I went back to the Y and slept all afternoon and evening.

About 10 PM I got up, wrote a letter to Marian, had something to eat and returned to bed. Got up at 5 AM and went to the station. I was 4th cook and did nothing but dishes from 10:30 Tuesday morning until 11 PM Thursday. Boy, I don’t think I ever worked so hard. It was terrific – but, at least I wasn’t bored by the trip and I had very good meals and an upper. Slept from about 12 or one o’clock till 5:30 each night. We were five hours late arriving in LA, but she was there, with a smile, as usual, and my spirits rose perceptively. She had made arrangements for me to stay at the USO dorm, so I had something to eat and went to bed. I slept from about 6 AM till after 4 PM.

I had a key, which Marian had given me for her house, so I went there for a shower and then reported back to camp, got my pass, and took up where I had left off 16 days earlier. As I look back, those five days at home were some of the most enjoyable days I’ve ever spent, but they went far too fast. I went to the rationing board here and they gave me the ration points, but said that in the future to go to the local board at home. So take a mental note of that. It is a new O.P.A. regulation.

For two days now we have had typical Southern California September weather, hotter than hell. The air so hot, that desks and chairs or anything else is almost uncomfortably hot to touch. It was 116° today, and this is supposed to last until the middle of October. However, I really don’t mind it at all. Marian doesn’t like it too well. It has cooled off a little now, and we’re going to an open-air theater tonight to see “The More the Merrier”.

Give my love to Aunt Betty and anyone else and I’m expecting to take your suggestion and write to Grandma.

Lad

Tomorrow and Thursday, we’ll read a long letter from Grandpa to his four sons in their various locations, filled with news about each of them. Friday will be another letter from Lad .

Judy Guion

Special Picture # 246 – Lad’s Trip to Florida With Friends – March, 1936

I knew that my father had taken a trip to Florida with these guys because Art Mantle’s niece, Cindy, (my friend from childhood) sent me a couple of pictures of my Dad. A while ago,I was looking for a particular picture and I came across this picture. A few weeks later, I was looking for the same picture and came across this letter that I don’t ever remember seeing. Some additional information on that trip.

 

Art Mantle, Carl Wayne, Arnold Gibson and Lad Guion

I had thought this trip had taken place in 1935 because that’s what my Mom had written on the back of this picture. The letter below is postmarked March, 1936. 

 

 

 

 

Thursday

SARASOTA

FLORIDA

Dear Dad:

        How do you like our new stationary. We  got some  from   each of  the  numerous  Hotels  here, but I think this is the best. We  are here  in  Sarasota  visiting  some  distant  relatives  here of Carl’s.  It is really a very pretty place and  the  weather is  fine. The  biggest trouble  is  the  sulfur  water  but  we  are  beginning  to  get  used  to  it.

        If  you  want  to  write  you  can  send  it  to  general  delivery, Miami. We  are  leaving  here  tomorrow  afternoon  for  the  last  leg of  the  trip  in  a  southern  direction.  Everything  is  fine  except that  after  leaving  Aunt  Anne’s  * Monday  afternoon  and stopping  at  Silver  Springs  for  a  short  visit, a bearing  burned  just  outside  of  Ocala. This  time  it

was  number one. But  again  the  Ford  is  running  fine. Now I have  invented  an  oil  pump to  keep oi l  in  the  front  of  the motor  to  eliminate  the  trouble  of  overheated  bearings.

        We  all  went  swimming  this  afternoon  and  got  slightly burned  on  the  beach. The water was  cool  at  first  but  after  the first  dip  it  was  pretty  good.

        We  are  going  to  look  the  town  over  tonight  and  I still have  to  get  shaved  and  dressed  so  as  much  as  I hate  to,  I will have  to  let  it  go  until  some  other  time.

        Hope  to  hear  from  you  in  Miami.

                                                                       Love

                                                                           Lad

* Lad and his friends, Art Mantle, Carl Wayne and Arnold Gibson stopped to visit Grandma Arla’s youngest sister, Anne (Peabody) Stanley in St. Petersburg, Florida. This is where Elizabeth (Biss) went during her Junior year in High School to help Aunt Anne care for her two children, Don and Gwen Stanley, in 1934. This story is told in the Category, “St. Petersburg, FL”.

Tomorrow, I’ll begin posting letters written in 1942. The year is just beginning and Draft Boards are getting busy.

Judy Guion

Dear Boys – Lad’s Visit and News From Brazil – September, 1943

Well, Lad has come and gone. Grandpa’s first paragraph says it all. At least he has some good news to report – he’s finally heard from Dick, so now he knows where all of his sons are, even though they are getting farther and farther from home.

 

 

 

 

Trumbull Conn.    September 12, 1943

Dear Boys:

I don’t know whether it’s old age, hay fever or a general letdown after saying goodbye to Lad (probably a combination of all three) but I’m feeling a bit low right now and not at all in the mood to write a nice, cheery letter. The week has seemed to go so quickly. It hardly seems any time at all since Lad walked into my office last Tuesday and relieved me of worry that he might have been involved in one of those severe Labor Day train wrecks. He hasn’t put on any weight and looks about the same. It was mighty good to see and talk with him, even though half (more than half in fact) of his furlough time was spent just in going and coming between the Atlantic and Pacific coasts.

I really should feel all pepped up after the pleasant birthday celebration that marked the days dinner hour. Elsie and Elizabeth joined the festive throng, Jean made a delicious birthday cake which she got up early to make, in spite of the fact she needed the sleep, having been up late the night before. Then it being a beautiful, breezy, sunshiny day we all went outside afterward fr some picture taking. Another event beside Lad’s presence to mark a high spot was the receipt of a letter from none other than Dick, and earlier in the week, the second V-mail letter Dan has written from England. He apparently is stationed not far from London, as he speaks of frequent visits there and of enjoying his visit in England.

Dick says he is allowed to state he is in Brazil. He purchased a pair of boots there. “To all appearances these boots are of average quality and the purchaser feels he has made a ‘shrewd deal’ until he starts out on a rainy day. He sets out jauntily on a short stroll with his shiny boots kicking up little sprays of sand (of which there is an abundance). After having traversed a few hundred yards of damp sand he suddenly becomes aware of a slight dampness on the soles of his feet. Not wishing to ruin his new boots he decides to return to the barracks and put on his G.I. shoes. Halfway back the dampness has definitely increased to a wetness, and by the time he reaches shelter the papier-mâché souls are trailing along behind and his toes leave neat little imprints in the sand. Feeling slightly frustrated, he consoles himself with the thought that there is a war going on and we have to be satisfied with inferior quality products. On every article in town there are two prices — one price for ”Joe’s” (American Soldiers) and another price (about 2/3d’s less) for Brazilians. All kidding aside, though, I like it pretty well. The people have accepted the American soldiers and act friendly most of the time”. Thanks, Dick, old son, for the letter and of course I am glad to know you enjoy getting my weekly efforts, poor as I know some of them to be.

Aunt Helen phoned me last night to wish me many happy returns. She is leaving for Miami the day after tomorrow and hopes to get up to see us on their next visit to New York, whenever that may be.

Grandma Peabody

Grandma writes she has had another bad spell. She says: “Dorothy is following doctor’s orders, insisting I must have my breakfast in bed and that I must not do any kind of work that may tire me. So you see I am really good for nothing. I am more than sorry it turned out as it did with my stay in Trumbull because I really enjoyed being there with you. This letter seems to be mostly about myself but I thought I would explain as near as I can that my illness is more or less serious.” Incidentally, if any of you boys could find time to drop Grandma a card now and then, it might be something you would not regret.

She further says that Aunt Anne has given up her job with Condé Nast and wants to get work in New York and live there. Donald has been back to this country for the second time (Newport News, VA) and has probably left again. He is fine and evidently enjoying his work. Charlie Hall and Jane Mantle, as you probably know, were married. Mrs. Ives gave a party for Charlie and Jane, Carl and Ethel, and Lad and Babe (Cecelia) on Saturday night.

Well I guess that about winds up this evening’s effort, so let’s call it quits for this week, with best wishes from

DAD

Tomorrow, more Special Pictures.

Next week I’ll be posting letters written in 1945. Lad and Dick are both home, enjoying time with their wives.  Dan is still in the Army but hoping to get out on points and waiting for the time that Paulette and his first child can travel to America, Ced is still in Anchorage, Alaska, and Dave is in Manila, Philippines.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Ced (1) – Dick’s Homecoming and Dan’s Engagement – December, 1941

Trumbull, Conn., Dec. 28, 1941

Dear Ced:

This is one letter that I shall not have to scratch my head to think of what to say. It is intended to be a sort of report on our Christmas doings, as well as news of the week’s doings, and because the relatives will probably be interested in some of the timely topics herein after recorded, I am sending them a carbon copy.

Dick’s Homecoming

          Your airmail letter of the 14th was received on the day before Christmas and in view of your statement that the sailing of Dick’s boat of the Alaskan steamship line had been canceled indefinitely because of the war and that it would wait for a convoy to Seattle, we had given up hope of Dick’s arrival in time for Christmas. I proceeded to the office with that thought fixed in my mind which is perhaps the reason why, when I arrived and found a note on my desk to call a New York operator, I did not connect it with Dick but thought perhaps it might be Elsie telling me that, because of the rush of work, she could not come up until Christmas morning. Even when the operator asked me if I would accept a collect call from Mr. Guion I failed to get it and told her I presumed it would be from Miss Guion, but to put through the call anyway. The first words I heard were: “Hello Dad, this is Dick”. He said the boat had anchored for two or three days in the harbor, had finally sailed and a short time later put back into port again. They finally sailed in earnest, made the trip with as little light as they could show at night and finally docked at Seattle without mishap. Lad, in his car, accompanied by Dan and Barbara and Jean Mortenson, went down to Aunt Elsie’s hotel where he was spending the day. Aunt Betty and I, thinking he would be home before midnight, waited up for him, but by 2 o’clock Aunt Betty gave it up and went to bed, and three quarters of an hour later they arrived. Dick looked a little taller, no stouter and of course adorned with a little mustache.

Marriages

          Last night in my capacity as Justice of the Peace, your Dad spliced two couples in the little old alcove with the fire flickering in lieu of Mendelson’s wedding march. The men were both from Scranton, Pa. and the girls both from Conn.

Early Christmas evening the news was released that earlier in the day Jean Hughes and Chester Hayden had been married by Mr. Powell at the Hughes’ home and were on their way to New York for a brief honeymoon. He had been working at the Aluminum Company of America plant and had to be back to work Monday.

The big item of news under this general heading, however, was the display by Barbara of a solitaire diamond ring that Dan had given her that day in acknowledgment of their engagement. It is Dan’s present intention not to get married until this international mess is cleaned up and the future seems a bit more assured than it is at present. In this connection Dan has still had no further news from the draft board other than what they told him some weeks ago when he phoned them and was informed that he would be ordered into service sometime in January. It has been their custom to give selectees ten days notice but I don’t know whether the declaration of war has changed that custom or not. Dan said if he knew definitely he would quit his job a couple of weeks before hand. As it is now, starting today, he has to work Sundays also.

Tomorrow, I’ll post the rest of this Christmas letter to Ced and other family members. Something special on Thursday and Holiday cards on Friday. 

Saturday and Sunday, Special Pictures 

Next week, I’ll continue with letters written in 1943, when four boys are in the service of Uncle Sam.

Judy Guion