[6 April 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well—back at last, and what a trip. I got here yesterday afternoon about two P.M., having got a ride thru from near Yuma.
That hitch-hiking works out well. I “cheated” once—took a bus from L.A. to Indio; I never could have gotten a ride out of L.A.
And so now I’m going to start looking around here for a job. I could have got one out on the coast but I don’t like it a bit out there, and it seems any thing but healthful.
What I’d like to do is work around here until the beginning of May and then start out and see the north west and west and work east in June.
There’s an ad in the paper today by a ‘large electrical firm’ for ‘young men 18 to 22’ so I’m going to see what’s cooking.
Came back from L.A. with three dollars so my one week’s thousand mile trip wasn’t so expensive after all—and I got a hair cut!—First since January fifth!
Love
Bill
P.S. How do you like my new ‘G’ in Gaddis on the envelop? I think it’s better.
To Edith Gaddis
Cortaro, Arizona
[8 April 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well this is just to tell you about the latest intriguing offer and plans. There is a couple here—an elderly deaf woman and her feeble minded son (!) from Saint Louis Mo.—and they plan to return the fifteenth. However they want someone to drive them—that is share driving with the son—only about 200 miles a day apiece! They have a ’38 Buick—and have offered me the job!—They pay all car expenses—and my quarters at nite—leaving me only meals to pay for—so I think I’ll do it.
As it looks now we leave the fifteenth—Wednesday—and so around the twentieth I can receive mail at Gen’l Delivery–St. Louis.
Love
Bill
To Edith Gaddis
St. Louis, Missouri
[20 April 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well here in St. Louis at last—we got here Sunday afternoon—and what a trip. You see this woman is hard of hearing—and her son Otto, who’s about 23—is sort of—simple. He went thru college—then started in at Harvard (!) and then cracked up it seems.
Anyhow we got here—after going thru Carlsbad Caverns etc.—and I figured on staying here with these people until I could get myself a job—or a river boat down to New Orleans—then back to Tucson; but chances for jobs on boats were very slim, and I finally ended up down on the river where the government is building a levee—so tomorrow morning I am to go down and see about a job there—it looks good, and I saw the boss yesterday and he said that if I came back in the morning he thot chances looked good. It is 55¢ an hour—you board and room on the boat there—and it amounts to about $22 a week cleared. I figure that if I work there for about two or four weeks I can make a good enough stake to get back to Arizona.
I know just how things are at home—I mean no car—and George, Henry Cliff and probably Arvid gone—and I’d thot about it that way—so here’s what I figure. You see Ross may buy an old car and start east around the thirtieth of May, so I may go with him. That would get me home around the middle of June—just right to see some of my old friends graduate etc.—and then, Mom—if you’ll do me a favour, and please see Gerald Haggerty and see how much chance I’d have to ship out in coastal or South American waters around June twenty-fifth—or do you think it would be better if I wrote him myself? At any rate that’s what I want to do. That would just round things out right.
Well that’s how things stand now—of course I may not get a job—then I’ll do as you said and go to a nice hotel and send for money. But other wise things should work out well; I have $4. which will keep me over until I get this job—then things will be fine.
I saw De Mills’ secretary and told her to send you the bill (and also told her what I thot of his $5 a call services and what they’d done for me!); also to the laboratory, for similar purposes!
I have shipped a box by express from Tucson (my old overcoat and a pair of steer’s horns)(collect) and intend to ship my big suit case today—I don’t need the shirts and pants in it (by express)(collect).
Will write tomorrow and let you know about the job—in the mean time don’t worry—I’m not.
Love
Bill
[on back of envelope:] P.S. When does Harvard June session start?
Otto: the name of a major character in R, who likewise went to Harvard and eventually “cracked up.” But see also notes to 29 October 1950.
Carlsbad Caverns: a popular tourist attraction in New Mexico.
Gerald Haggerty: unidentified.
De Mills: apparently another doctor WG consulted
To Edith Gaddis
Water Tower Station
2102 East Grand
St. Louis – Mo.
U.S. Quarterboat #1
Tuesday afternoon [21 April 1942]
Dear Mom—
Started work last nite at 4 P.M.; am on the 4–12 shift working eight hours a day. It is some job. I live with about seventy other fellows on the quarter boat—a big boat tied up here on the Mississippi east bank across from St. Louis.
I am getting 55 cents an hour, and after paying board here on the boat it comes out to about $21 a week. I think that after a couple of weeks I’ll have enough to go back to Tucson. Or perhaps I’ll work longer if I like it, tho I doubt this. You see Ross plans to get an old car and we might drive east together about the end of May, taking a week and a half or two I suppose. Then I might go to sea from New York, if it could be worked out, or get work in the east somewhere—perhaps on a dude ranch—or even come back west.
But then of course if you think it would be good to enter Harvard in June, that would change everything. I might come east from here, or get Ross to drive east early.
And so please send me the date for entry in June; it was probably in that Accelerated Programmer book, but I think I sent it back with that bag I shipped. So please tell me which you think would be best—Harvard in June, or a little more working around, until fall.
I seem to be in good physical condition; I had a physical exam and the doctor wrote ‘good’; the work is pretty hard (building a pipeline for a dredge in big hip boots etc!) and I’ll watch myself and if anything looks like it’s going wrong will go to the doc—however I think this work will build me up—if anything will, and it is an experience. The boys here are a ripping bunch, and the food good and plenty (4 meals a day). And they all think I’m an Arizona cowboy! We do have fun!
Love
Bill
To Edith Gaddis
St Louis, Missouri
[26 May 1942]
Dear Mom—
I know you had a hard time getting the birth certificate—and as for shipping out of New Orleans—I wouldn’t do that even if I did get down there—and I don’t expect to do that now—unless I’m fired and it should work out that way conveniently.
However I am planning on coming home in June—very definately unless something radical should happen—then we’ll plan from there—and at least have time to talk over the sea before I go, if I should.
We paint and scrape daily and pretty hard too, down below deck, but Frank (the captain) doesn’t seem to think we’re fast enough—so I may leave (by request!) any day! And say tell Granga I expect to be leaving this town about the eighth—she said she might come out here and I’d like seeing her. I expect to work thru the weekend of the 7th—then leave and come home slowly—stop in Chicago—Indiana—Ohio—but of course the job may move or end before then, so I can’t be sure.
We go out once in a while but not often—I haven’t had a day off since I started so can’t do much and work next day. The time passes fast enough on the job it is rather monotonous and so this evening I went down to some 2nd hand book stores—saw a beautiful copy of Omar Khayam’s Rubaiyat—leatherbound—I’ve read it and like it a great deal—but it was $6 so I left with a copy of Ibsen’s plays to help pass the ti
me—
Love
Bill
Omar Khayam’s Rubaiyat: twelfth-century collection of Persian poems, especially popular in Edward FitzGerald’s nineteenth-century translation.
Ibsen’s plays: his Peer Gynt (1867) plays an important role in R.
To Edith Gaddis
Saint Louis, Missouri
[1 June 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well everything still under control—and June 9th drawing closer every day! Boy it’s going to be good.
Still painting down in the hold, tho today I worked out on the shore line.
I think I’ll have enough money when I leave here to start home—I get paid Friday the 5th and and have some debts to collect so think it will turn out all right
Am quite sure I won’t be home by next week-end—right now I expect to work through Saturday—then off 8 hours, go back out at midnite ’til 8 Sunday morning—then plan to drive down to Cape Gerardo about 135 miles south, with some of the boys with whom I work here on the boat. They’re a swell bunch and have been wanting me to go down for some time—so we’ll go Sunday morning—and back Monday afternoon; then perhaps see Granga Monday or Tuesday nite—(preferably Monday evening) and leave next day for Chicago. So if you’ll see what her hotel will be so I can look her up Monday nite (or Tuesday nite if this isn’t possible) it will work out fine.
Well it won’t be too long now—I expect to stay in Chicago—and around in Indiana and perhaps Sandusky Ohio—however that trip is uncertain—and say is Henry driving a school bus?? George said so.
Love
Bill
Cape Gerardo: i.e., Cape Girardeau.
Sandusky Ohio: WG’s journal indicates he met (or intended to meet) a Carole Potter there on 16 June.
To Edith Gaddis
The Mark Twain Hotel
Eighth and Pine Streets
Saint Louis
[7 June 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well can you believe it?! Free at last! And in a hotel room with bed! and tub! and easy chair! And tonite I go out and sink my teeth into a thick juicy red steak—haven’t had any red meat since I started!
And say but these dress pants feel good after a month and a half of those heavy work pants!
I heard from Gram and planned to meet her the 13th in Indianapolis—but now is changed to Keokuk, Iowa the 9th—so I’ll see her there and then wander on east thru Chicago and Indianapolis etc. and home—I don’t know when but probably around the end of the week of the fourteenth. But will let you know when I’m definately headed for New York.
And say, I forgot to mention—but you might write Dr. Gumere or some such—Mr Garrett’s friend; he’s the dean of admissions at Harvard and probably the boy who’d know.
Well I’ll write and keep you posted—and you’ll probably get a letter from Gram soon telling you I look ragged or something—but I haven’t changed a bit—my watch still fits just like it did and pants etc—I’ve hit a ‘bottle neck’ and my regular life ab’d the boat apparently hasn’t helped—or done bad—I guess I’m lucky—
Love
Bill
Dr. Gumere: Richard M. Gummere (1883-1969), Dean of Admissions at Harvard from 1934 to 1952. Mr. Garrett is unidentified.
To Edith Gaddis
[Returning to New York on 18 June, WG changed his mind about returning to Harvard and headed back west on 18 July.]
Cheyenne, Wyoming
[25 July 1942]
Dear Mom—
Thanks so much for the letter and check. And I do hope that you haven’t wondered too much about me—I haven’t had a chance to write, and that last letter I didn’t have a 6¢ stamp.
At any rate here it is Saturday evening and having seen a wonderful rodeo and ‘Frontier Days’ we’re going north tomorrow—to his ranch just for a little—a few days—then back south I guess.
And now a tale of which I don’t know what you’ll think. You see we got up here late Friday evg., met a couple of cowboys in town, and proceeded to celebrate ‘Frontier Days,’ until, Mother, we were taken to the local ‘calabozo’ to spend the rest of the night. Don’t worry—we’re out and everything’s all right—no fingerprints etc.—and quite an experience. You know a newspaper-man must see things first hand—and the Cheyenne jail is something to see! I am getting rid of the bed-bug itches I acquired and will soon be back to normal.
Don’t know when I’ll write again as mail is infrequent from the ranch—but everything’s fine—
Love
Bill
Frontier Days: a celebration held in Cheyenne on the last ten days of July ever since 1897. calabozo: Spanish for jail.
To Edith Gaddis
Cheyenne, Wyoming
[4 August 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well back at last to civilization—electric lites and running water etc. But I mean that ranch was the real stuff!! We were finished branding (yes we—you should have seen me holding down the back ends of those calves!) about Friday but H—convinced me I ought to stay thru the weekend so I left this morning and came down to Cheyenne—a little over two hundred miles. The ranch was swell tho—and so were the ‘boys’—his father and two uncles—and I saw and did it all—branding, herding, driving cattle & horses, fixing fence, killing rattle snakes (!), washing dishes, and myself less frequently, and riding most of the time, and it was wonderful.
I plan on going down to Denver tomorrow—we’ll see if Mr. Keating is there or Pueblo or where—then down to Colorado Springs to see this Harvard ‘classmate’ of mine for a day or two—then if Mr Keating’s around I’ll contact him. That’s as far as real plans go, but expect to continue on down to Tucson after this.
Am trying to keep expenses at a minimum—because I do want to get some new clothes when I come home in the fall, as these two shirts and levis are all I’ve gotten in recent times. Harold did run me in a little, as he was broke when we hit Denver and I staked him to various stuff—and then the rodeo and room etc in Cheyenne, but it was worth it with that time at the ranch to pay off! And speaking of clothes I was looking at cur[rent] Esquire today, and gee—I love this west etc. etc. but do you think there is any chance of Harvard in the fall? The trip is swell but it is really sort of escapism—I do want to go back there this fall more than anything, and after I talk to Franny in Colo. Spgs. I hate to think how I’ll feel. Gosh I’d kiss the ground Dr. (?) Williams walks on or blow his brains (??) out if I thot either would do any good. The more I think of a southern college the less I think of it—ye gods I could wear coats—even sweaters—even a sterno stove under my bed——I really think they were utter fools to let such a point drive them to such drastic lengths. In short I am still quite disgusted but hopeful—‘bloody but unbowed’—and Mom if there is anything you can do—tell ‘Byard’ I spent a nite in jail and have been branding calves—it may help.
Love
Bill
Mr. Keating: unidentified.
Franny: Francis Ware, a roommate at Harvard later.
Harold: the H—mentioned in the first paragraph, but otherwise unknown.
Dr. Williams: unidentified. ‘bloody but unbowed’: from the once-popular poem “Invictus” by British writer William Ernest Henley (1849–1903) expressing determination: “Under the bludgeonings of chance / My head is bloody, but unbowed.”
‘Byard’: unidentified.
To Edith Gaddis
Colorado Springs, Colorado
[8 August 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well everything is still under control, and I’m presently enjoying a fine time in Colo. Springs as Francis’ guest. I rolled in about Wednesday evening and have been entertained royally since.
You have probably received a card asking you to send the field boots (and the barracks bag if you haven’t sent them yet) to Leadville—it is up in the mountains and there’s a big job of some sort going on there; it is really at ‘Pando’ which is just outside of Leadville but I doubt if they have a post office.
At any rate I expect to go up there and work for a while.
Harold was a fine fellow—real ‘Wyoming’—and believe me the ranch was wonderful.
Having been here since Wednesday I do feel rather guilty but Francis is having a party on Sunday and they want me to stay for that, so I’ll probably be off for Pando around Monday or Tuesday.
It did feel good getting back into shoes and a coat and tie and bath after the ranch, and in Denver I hit another book store and got a nice leather bound copy of O’Neill’s sea-plays, Vanity Fair and Crime and Punishment to catch up a little.
Well Pando is supposed to be pretty tough—one of the toughest towns out here, as it’s just a camp, and I’ve met men who wouldn’t stay because of their familys, so I mayn’t last long but it does sound interesting and worth a try—
Love
Bill
O’Neill’s sea-plays: probably Eugene O’Neill’s Moon of the Caribees and Six Other Plays of the Sea (1919).
Vanity Fair [...] Crime and Punishment: classic novels by William Thackeray (1848) and Fyodor Dostoevsky (1866).
To Edith Gaddis
Pando, Colorado
[15 August 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well am settled for a few days—not more—because this is some job; cold in the morning and now we are working 12 hrs. per day— ½ hr. off for lunch—go on at 5:30 A.M. and off at 5:30. We are 2 miles high but the alt. seems all right tho it is cold especially mornings. Don’t know how long it will last.
Well I can’t write any college because I don’t know where I’m going to be—I do expect to be home early in September and then will start out for school again. And so since there isn’t any chance for Harvard just pick out any southern college with a nice name—I think Tulane sounds better than Tucson—and let H—send what ever they have to. I don’t know and it doesn’t particularly matter.
I got the check at the Springs and thanks tho I shan’t need it for a while unless I’m fired which is very probable.