Campbell home - East Athens, PA
Dear Folks,
Altho’ there is nothing much to report. I report.
Started really looking in earnest today, having had to spend all of Monday fixing up the New portfolio. Two hours in the morning, that is. The rest of the time B. Duck and I were gallivanting around. We had a lot of fun. Visited her friend Rachel, ate lunch in a Chinese place + biffed around a bit.
Leona Towner (Rem), childhood friend and Syracuse roommate of Janice's.
Here’s a problem for the Shrimp. It has us baffled, although there is probably a simple reason for this phenomena: on the train coming down, as we had nothing else to do B. Duck and I played various simple card games. For about an hour and a half we worked on one game of War. Such a rut we got in that I played two whole rounds with my eyes shut, making no mistake, as she would take a trick, then I’d take one, then she, then me, etc. etc. etc. etc. Very monotonous. We finally started shuffling, which stopped it all. Another time we were each holding 2 Aces, only I had about 6 other cards + she had the rest of the deck. I couldn’t get anywhere, as every time I turned up an ace, she laid on either a two or a three, alternately. This went on and on. Never did get out of that rut.
Harrison S. Campbell, aka, Shrimp, Janice's brother.
Now I know what I forgot – that Spanish letter. Lillian has broken off with her Spaniard, but in N.Y. there are other Spaniards, so send it along just in case.
That new portfolio makes all the difference in the world with those samples. Today I made the mistake of trying to go around without appointments. Tomorrow I make appointments. Went to Miss Peterson, the one that got me the Hoppman job. She is actually the only one I managed to show the samples. This is a bad time, right around New Years. Art directors all too busy to see anybody. Y‘know it’s exactly a year ago tomorrow that I started Hoppman? Miss Peterson is very encouraging, even exclaiming, “Oh, isn’t that nice!” at various samples. I am suspicious of her.
That box of candied fruit is terrific. It features all those exotic things you see in delicatessen windows + wonder how they will taste.
I’ve been getting all sorts of Christmas presents. B. duck got me a box of dusting powder with a puff, very luxurious. Regina brought back a handkerchief + a pair of bedsox. Ace kicked in with a cute little gold choker (for the neck) y’know the kind, coiled to look solid. He shouldna done that. As for Regina, I combed all the stores before Xmas + couldn’t find a thing for her. Ask the Shrimp, he was along on that one try.
Got homesick today + went to the Chinese place where I found Ginny + Lillian just sitting down to lunch. They bought me one for being unemployed.
For a very amusing picture, see “Kiss and Tell”.
The New Years party was quite some affair. Nice friends, Ace has. His best pal Zig + his sister picked me up + it took us 2 hours to get out there by El, subway, ferry, train + taxi. Great Kills was the name of the place. I like it – it’s about like some parts of Syracuse. Ace met the train + got lost trying to find the house. Seeing a man entering one place he yells out, ‘Is that Eddie’s house?” It wasn’t, said the man, but he was close. Across the street, in fact. Zig’s sister goes to Oklahoma College for women, which I guess is near Stillwater. A cute blonde.
This afternoon I came home + started playing the Ocarina. From the next room there came the sound of a comb with paper over it playing. Later violin music (?) The old geezer – I guess I woke him up.
love, J.
9:15 PM Thursday Jan, 10, 1946
Dear Folks,
What a long week this has been, and it is not yet over yet.
Guess the Shrimp has left for the far west by now? He may have an adventurous trip according to a letter I got from B. Duck this morning. It seems just by the merest luck some kind soul flagged her train before if reached the place where a bridge used to be (floods) and the whole night was spent in backing up, trying another bridge which was also out, backing up again etc. etc. A very good letter.
I haven’t felt like writing this week because of depressing circumstances, and I do mean depressing! Why oh why did I ever leave Hoppmans is what I keep asking myself. But then I always answer that one thusly: If I never left Hoppmans there would always be that little voice which says, “you could do better”. It must be chalked up as one of these saddening experiences you learn by. I guess I’ve tried all the big agencies and studios in New York, plus several magazines. Always the same story – “We haven’t any openings now, but you never can tell – if you’ll just leave your name—“ (the old brush off) Several places say they have more work than they can handle + will hafta move if they can find a new location – come back in three months – (brush off no. 2).
A couple of places assured me that “With that portfolio of samples you won’t have any trouble finding a job” (Ha-Ha!) I got to the point where there were no more places to look. So today I call up Miss Peterson, the agency that got me the Hoppman job, and she gives me a lead, which, being desperate, I follow. It ain’t much of a job, but now, I eat anyway, if I can hold on to it (the job I mean, I have no trouble keeping eats down) It’s called Brandford Studio, and I am doing just about what I did for Hopperman, but for $40 per week, which is a bit of improvement. It’s a rather queer set-up. Quite a lonesome place, I miss the chatter + clatter of Hoppmans. Only two desks in my room, the other on being a deaf old geezer who is usually not there. Mr. Brandford has the other room all to himself, except that he, too is usually absent. In the outer room there is something named George. Then they tell me there is yet another artist who is having pneumonia. That’s all. I hope this arrangement will be only temporary. It has the advantage of being a free + easy place, where one can come + go without questions. A good opportunity to go out after free-lance. Moreover, we don’t work Saturdays, and it’s a nice location – on 42nd St. across from Bryant Park + the Library. Handy by the 6th Ave subway. Poorly equipped, though.
Mr. Brandford is astonishing. I would say that he was merely six parts negro, except for the strange accent. What could he be? Skinny + narrow, yellowish complexion, negroid features, + kinky gray hair. Tall narrow skull. Hardly the boss type. Could he be from Algiers, Tunis, or Morocco? How can I find out? Seems to be quite nice, but hardly bossish.
Have I missed Ace this week, the rat! I’m just itching to talk to somebody. Even the cockroaches have deserted.
Well, enuff. Let’s hear from you if there’s anything cookin”.
love, J.
Janice - Self Portrait
Friday Jan. 18 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Now to do something about those 2 letters and a postcard that have been clamoring for attention.
Felt rather at a loss this night, so went up to the League + chatted with Montana for a while. Her troubles are always so much worse than mine. She knows a guy who desperately wants some Xmas cards designed, so I am playing around with that this weekend.
Keep digging on that studio idea. You would soon become the Valley portrait studio, not that you’d have any customers but perhaps you could cater to the tourist trade (rotten paper!) who knows – you may soon be paying an income tax.
One week with Brandford has passed. This week George was moved into my room, so things are not as bleak as they were. Still no equipment, though. No T-square, no good brushes, one and one-half bowlegged ruler, no drawing board, nicked up triangle, no pencils, scarcity of paint, + he keeps the paper + board hidden. Expects me to furnish my own stuff, and this I will not do. Aside from all this, things are going fairly well. Most of our work is for colored firms + Harlem magazines. A lot of contra-anti-Semetic propaganda. Yesterday afternoon I did a cover design + a book jacket for “The Handbook of Harlem Jive”, a fascinating volume.
I think George is married to a colored girl. A gorgeous + very sweet mulatto-ish gal was in one day while George was out + when he returned, Dave said, “George, your wife was here”.
My one foolish hope is this – on 57th St. is a place called Powers Studio that expects to open in a few weeks. I was n a couple of times + he seemed quite agreeable (I am always partial to persons that laugh at my cartoons). They will be doing ads for Fifth Avenue Stores, are definitely on the lookout for artists, and will “let me know” $45 per week. Walking distance from home. Ace says Hoppmans want me back, although I don’t give him much credit for knowing what anybody wants.
That was a dirty crack, that last, + he does not deserve it, the dear sweet thing, as he tries very hard. Have been having more fun lately. Last Saturday they had a shindig out there for Cousin Betty from Wisconsin + others. Ace, Zig, + Gene, another older air-corps person sat around + gave off about this, that, + everything far into the night. I thoroly (sic) enjoyed it. Mrs. L. is a terrific cook, + we had ham with everything + seconds of same. I see now why Ace gets fat. Had supper out there again Wednesday + still regret the fact that I ate lunch at 4:30 that day. Ace + Zig + I went ice-skating that night out where the words Fair usta (sic) be nice big indoor rink, with music. My ankles wobbled, but there was some improvement as the evening wore on. Zig is a good skater, but Ace prefers to sit around remarking that he would rather be digging a nice ditch or shoveling coal, or “goody, only 20 minutes till closing time”. Great fun though, and I like to go out with those two. (What a luxury, with the 7-1 ration – I better not brag – I don’t seem to be having any this weekend) There are really 3 of these guys, the other one being named Charley, whom I have not yet met.
Yesterday I ran into Jane Walpole, a redheaded room-mate I had for two weeks one spring.
Do you mean to say that big Spanish letter we worked so hard on is gonna be ignored? Bah.
How did the Shrimp’s picture turn out?
I go to bed.
love, J
Sunday PM Jan. 27 ‘46
Dear Folks,
It’s unforgiveable, this lapse of writing. The last week must have gone fast, although I dunno why – nothing occurred.
Anyway, here I am listening to the regular Sunday eve programs + knitting with what you see here. (red, black and pale yellow yarn tied through a hole in the letter – ac)
It is a pair of sox in the making – I harshly criticized a pair of sox Zig was wearing last week + he suggested I should to better. They are really terrific – wide red, yellow + black stripes, with green hells + toes. Ace gets mittens, just to even the score. Maybe these guys were only kidding in which case they will get a shock. Do you think this is a rash thing to do? It makes me very happy.
Today I had it arranged with one Muriel Griffin that we meet at church + then go over to the studio club where she lives, have dinner, play ping pong + stuff. This we did. We also struggled with a Ouija board. The Studio club is a very fancy place, probably similar to the Three Arts Club. Large, elaborate living rooms equipped for recitals or dances, a sun porch on the roof, big dining hall, recreation + wash rooms in basement. Like a big college dormitory except that there are so many girls that most of ‘em don’t know each other.
The job still goes on. That is a one-half horse establishment. Meester Brand-ford (as he would say it + does) is a miserly character, probably with reason. Since I have been there he has furnished me with one piece of equipment – ie. A bottle of india ink. Guess I described him to you the condition of the other stuff, bowlegged rulers + all. Never seems to have any Bristol board when you need it. Will go out and buy one sheet if the matter is really urgent. Tell him you are looking for a board on which to do a 3-inch circle with lettering, he will carefully tear a 3 ½ inch corner form a larger board + had it over. And the other day he was rushing madly about the place looking for his only pencil.
George goes out every day answering want-ads. This is stimulating , as I sometimes get ideas that way, too. The new secretary seems to be a very nice person, high class + what clothes! Makes me feel like a dud. She is light tan like Mr. B.
Went ice skating with the boys last Wednesday. We’re improving + will go again. Ace + family live in an apartment house of the snazzy variety. His mother, who is really a step-mother is a friendly + domestic sort. His father, who is about 70, is always listening to the Lone Ranger when I am there. They make one feel at home. I guess they are used to having their son’s young friends underfoot.
I’ve been having iron trouble. Remember the trouble I was having with the cute little job I had just acquired – It got too hot? Anyway, I burned it out on DC current, as it was built for AC. I couldn’t have asked Twite about it or he would have known I had an iron. I just assumed it was AC. So I took it to have it fixed + changed to DC, which couldn’t be done, but they offered to let me trade it in on a DC. But then I heard rumors of short circuits resulting from irons on third floor, so I decided I should ask Twite. “Oh, no!” he said, “You can’t have an iron on this floor – you’ll blow a fuse!” Of course I know this is not so because I used mine twice, but this he must not know. “You can always do your ironing downstairs” he says and this I will not do. The only other course is to obtain one of these old heat-on-stove-irons. He can’t object to that, can he? Moral-deception doesn’t pay.
I told you about the day I met Jane Walpole in the street. There was a very funny coincidence occurring there. It seems that at that moment Regina was strolling by and observing all this. She decided to leave well enough alone + it was a good thing because I was having trouble remembering Walpole’s name.
Regina Reynolds
The pink hat had an enthusiastic reception.
Had lunch with Ginny + Lillian. Isabella Boyd (the blond you looked up in the yearbook) works there now. Also a Dutch girl named Yetta + another vet named Don or John or something. Everett has lost 20 lbs. (On purpose)
Altho the idea is revolting + I hate to leave Zig’s sock, which I am heeling, bed beckons.
How did you decide to make that brown checked stuff?
G’nite. love, J
10:45 Sat. AM Feb. 2 ‘46
Dear Folks,
The old groundhog is shadow boxing today, drat it.
Your last letter was very entertaining. Another advantage of these long one page jobs – the other she doesn’t blow away while you are reading one in the subway. Not that this has ever happened, but it’s something to worry about.
Haven’t had much of a week here, + the weekend doesn’t look too promising, but I think I shall take myself to see Ernie Pile tonight, as he is playing nearby.
At work, of all ghastly things, I am painting balsa airplane models for the Toy Fair. “Be really neat.” Mr. B keeps saying, and did you ever try to rule a “neat” line with black paint on rough balsa, or worse yet, apply one with a brush? I was attempting to boos the ego by saying to myself that I’d bet Rembrandt couldn’t do it either. “I think you’re wrong”, said George. Ten minutes of deflated silence. “Anyway,” I try again, “Van Gogh couldn’t do it” “How can you be sure of that ?” said George. He is leaving a week from Monday for a new job, lettering, as usual.
Ginny called up yesterday, invited me to lunch Monday, + gave me a slight lead on a guy Isabelle knows of that’s starting a cartooning place of some sort. I don’t expect much, but that was nice of Ginny. Maybe she rates an Emerson after all? Hoppy let Isabelle go. She has another job already.
Next Sat + the one after I am back at the Fort Jay sketching again. I have missed that. Got tired of staying home Saturday night, as Regina is working every night now, and Gerda will never go anywhere. I thought they had discontinued sketching when I got the pin + diploma, for faithful service, but no. Good thing.
Sketch of Bruce Hairr done by Janice on one of her visits to Fort Jay.
Now that I have Peterson paid off, I can get some of the things you wanted. Sugar Bowl, portfolio book + what else was there? And I suddenly recall that Jacky Moore wanted a pair of elbow patches for sweaters. Maybe he has given up by now or got some around there. the portfolio book is $2.50. I can’t find a sugar bowl yet. (Peterson is the agency, in case you are puzzled)
How’s the stocking situation? Yesterday on 42nd St. there was a line a block long in front of a rayon store. Inferior rayons, too.
Well, I finally met Charlie. He and Ace went skiing in Vermont last weekend + had more fun to hear them tell. I’m invited to go along next time, but the way it looks now there will be no next time. No snow. We must see more of Charley, though. 2 or 3 of these guys are supposed to come to ping-pong meeting on Tuesday, of all things. This was not my idea, but we could use a few good players. They’ve all gone back to Venezuela + Missouri. (the good players we had)
I think I can get you a catalogue of Art supplies next week. I’ll say you need brushes.
If you put in a radio shack, a studio, and no bathroom I shall leave home! I am very much in favor of the radio shack + studio, but------
I go forth now.
love, J
Thurs PM Feb. 7 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Yours received today, and actually being answered, no less.
Too bad about B. duggan who seems to be a nice sort. Was he afoot or abicycle?
Ain’t this year purty, in an elementary sort of way? The mittens will hafta go to an elementary individual, although I dunno who as they are huge, for some reason. Might fit Everett A. Hoppman but I doubt if he would appreciate the pattern. They might fit Charley. Then I could give Ace one sock + Zig the other. They wear each other’s clothes half the time anyway. My affairs, lemme tell you, are getting intricater + intricater.
Today was a most interesting day, things happened. Got off to a good start first thing, when the elevator operator could hardly stand up, he was so plastered. Mine was the first stop, but he waveringly took us to ten. “Nine, please, “ said the man who wanted nine. “This is ten” “Uh” said the operator + flopped us down to eight. “no, no!” said everybody – “nine-NINE!”. “Well, I’ll give ya seven”, sez the guy, and down we dive once more, then up we go, then down, at which we begin to worry as to weather we’d hafta spend the morning in there waiting for him to sober up enough to hit a floor. It was a huge relief when he finally opened the door on ten + we all piled out to take another car. It was really funny.
George didn’t get fired – he’s quitting because he has another job. His sucessor was in today – a bouncing + boisterous chap in the late thirties – you can see some of his work in that little 25c book of war paintings I got for Xmas a year ago. The name is Jon Nielsen, I think.
Tonite there was a fire across the street, with prolonged clanging of fire trucks at which time I got a phone call. Amid the din I talked to Ace for several minutes before realizing that it was Charley. How embarrassing. I thot (sic) he sounded a little queer, but I am not good at voices over the phone. Anyway now I am a heel because the boys have tickets to an ice show Sat. nite + I’m going with them instead of to Fort jay. I’m disturbed about that but would be disturbed a turning Charley down. (Oh drat) Well, fort Jay next week too.
How’s aunt H now? Shall I send a card?
love, J
I’ll try to mail those items Saturday.
7:15 PM Thursday Feb. 14 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Thursday seems to be letter writing nite here.
Emerson and the shrimp came yesterday. That Emerson is the acme. He should be dearly loved. I seem to recognize those eyes – off an old blouse of mine, are they not, and very effective. He seems to be on a bender. I didn’t see the girls today, so I will mail him. This may be the best anyway, as Lillian might feel left out. She likes Emersons naturally, but it is Ginny who collects dolls + creatures. Besides there is bound to be a certain shock upon the perception of this Emerson, and there may be involuntary remarks best kept in the bosom of the family. Thus Ginny will have time to compose herself before seeing me.
That’s a glamorous picture of the Shrimp. Don’t they have his eyebrows a little dark?
Were the brushes okay? Altogether we will call the bill $4.00. the portfolio was 2.75 + the brushes made it about $5.0 + we knock off a dollar for the stockings. How is that mathematically? (I sure need those stockings.) The elbow patches were 25c but I’d just as soon make him a present of ’em, I took so long getting around to the things.
Don’t bother to send those questionable stockings you mention. 4 should be plenty.
The tugboat strike is over + we work again. It seems that everybody but me came in to work that day, all the way from Brooklyn + the Bronx + couldn’t get in the building.
It’s been quite a week. I sketched at Fort Jay after all + at the last minute Charley called up + couldn’t make it (I found out later that he girlfriend from Boston had suddenly decided to come down). For once I was glad to be stood up, as the conscience had been kicking about my leaving the fort Jay boys in the lurch. So down to Fort Jay I go (it’s on Governor’s Island), and spend an enjoyable evening. And yesterday on 42nd St I met in the flesh one of the kids I sketched, name of Walker from Georgia. He was going to Camp Shanks for discharge/
Anyway, Charley promises to come over Sunday nite, which he finally does, in a sorry state. He had not been to bed for 2 days and had not eaten since 7:00 AM. He crawled up the front steps, scratched feebly upon the door + when I came down he was leaning against the wall in a state of haggard exhaustion. After a large supper things were better, + we then went bowling. Every time I bowl is a little worse than the time before, + each game this nite was around 48, a score which Julia Moore even could do much better than. But wait – perhaps Julia bowls, we will say – that’s funny – I can’t think of anybody who couldn’t exceed 48.
Tuesday night I presented the sox + mittens on the subway train, giving each one a sock + a mitten. Zig took the sox + Ace the mittens, as planned, + both were apparently delighted. In fact, Z proceeded to remove his shoes + make the change right there in the subway car before an amused audience. These creatures are uninhibited. They go with the yellow scarf. Now Charley wants mittens, and there is yet another guy named Joe just back from Japan who I think I will avoid. This has gone far enough.
This Tuesday nite we went down to Great Kills, Staten Island again, to Charley’s house on the bay. I wish it had been daylight, as we covered a lot of territory. It’s a big house, a big family with a big dog, + a big living room with fireplace and everything nautical. The whole family is boaty. Charley was rushing off to the garbage dump where it seems he keeps his boat tied. Ten minutes later we looked out overt he bay, + saw the Boat go past. C is pilot of this draft and is being called at all hours of the day + night to cruise around for one reason or another.
While C. was cruising, we went over to Joe’s house, where the women folk were all sitting around in beautiful silk kimonos, of which Joe had brought back a dozen or so from Japan. After a while we drove out to the waterfront again, picked up Charley + 3 qts. of ice cream + so back to Joe’s to demolish the ice cream and a lemon pie. On the way home we passed some lovely scenery which I couldn’t see because of the dark.
I answered an ad for a portrait artist + the guy game me a photo to copy. He’s an old geezer on East 62nd Street, who has more work than he can handle. He will take either freelance or steady artists. He can’t tell from what samples I have whether I can do what he wants- thus the photo. He knows Hess. Walker.
The pink Emerson has made himself at home. I shall miss him.
I now start painting:
self portrait?
Friday PM Feb. 22 ‘46
Dear Folks,
At last I get around to answering those 2 long letters. I am glad to see these long letters reappearing. They are an institution.
Didn’t work today, although for a while yesterday it looked as if I were going to. Asked Brandford about it + he said – We-al + he was going to ----+ if I wanted to come in----but the dear man had a change of heart around five o’clock and today I loafed.
Virginia claims to like her Emerson. The Hoppmans are working every night now. The girls must make about $60 per week. Oh why, oh why did I leave? Something queer has come up, however. The building where they are located is changing hands and everybody there will have to move by March 1. Anyway that’s how the girls tell it. It seems fantastic – offices are about so had to find now as apartments, especially offices suitable for studios, and there are at least 2 other studios there becides Hoppmann. There will be a lot of mad guys around March 1st.
This weekend I am very low. The job didn’t go well this week. Then I heard of a commercial art class nights down at Pratt which is what I need. Went down there (Brooklyn) last night and found out that I can’t get in until September. And to top it all off, this 3-day weekend was the one that the guys had invited me to spend skiing somewhere – Vermont. Bear Mountain or wherever snow is. Here is a beautiful 3-day weekend, all kinds of snow, me raring to go, possessing the necessary equipment, and they never called. I don’t know whether they decided not to go because of financial or other difficulties, or if they just “forgot” me. Last time I saw these guys there was some coolness. I don’t know why, and at the time I attributed it to the fact that it was about 10 below zero and there weren’t enough mittens to go around. But since that they have been very scarce and I assume that our beautiful friendship is struggling toward the nearest exit. Nevertheless I think they should call anyway, as this is something we’ve planned on since January. I certainly miss the little dears but will say this – it’s a heck of a lot easier to lose three than one strangely enuf.
Aunt H sent 3 pairs of stockings, 2 of which are silk. I now have enough to last until summer, methinks.
Did I tell you I found out that Brandford is from the West Indies?
If that choice young man writes he is more of a fool than he has reason to be and may find himself answered after this fashion: Dear Wholesome, I hear you are a peach etc. However, I am not one to discourage such creatures. He may not be so bad.
Keep up the painting,
Love, J
Dr. Hersey is urging me to join the church???
Did you find that list of recordings with the scrapbook?
Regina moves to the Barbizon Hotel this weekend.
May send the laundry bag tomorrow. No hurry on it.
PS Saturday morning. I feel better now. The weekend may not be an entire blank. I just called up one Jean Robbins whom I met sketching at Fort jay last week + with whom I was discussing these weekend hiking excursions. She knew what papers they appeared in. I got that paper + anyway we plan to go on one to long Island Sunday. 7 miles. Just an experiment.
Monday PM March 4 ‘46
Dear Folks,
A warm summer night here. I am breaking in a new fountain pen. Macy’s special.
Judy, the gal in the next room has just got back from a month stay in Florida. I don’t know why she returned. Anybody coming all the way to NY from Florida just to hairdress – I think I will have her chop a couple of inches off my mop. It gets a a little too long.
I hope the zipper is okay. Couldn’t get a regular Talon that length, so went to a little button store on 6th Ave.
March comes in like a lamb alright. February certainly went fast. Yesterday was a lovely day. Went to church for a change, killing 2 birds by also taking up a poster I had made for some Sunday School carnival. Then went over to the Barbizon Hotel where Regina is living in style. What a place. Deep plush, huge reception room + lobby, fancy dining room, uniformed elevator boys, elegant officers sitting around chatting with luscious ladies. Like in a movie. You go to a little telephone, + ask for Regina + she answers. Comes down all chic + band boxish, like a Mademoiselle cover, carrying a book “How to be Attractive” by Joan Bennett. Gerda came in and we all went up to see her room. A small, very neat + pretty thing. I made the awful mistake of remarking “Nothing buggy about this joint” and was soundly shushed. Seems you have to speak in a whisper there, as the walls are very thin. She is very lucky to get in there as there is a very long waiting list. Told ‘em she was living with a girl friend whose jusband returned + she was forced to move. She is afraid to get acquainted with anybody there while she is still waiting tables at Schraffts, in case they recognize her there some time. How she does all she does on $30 a week I do not know.* There are beauty parlors, shoe shine shop, bookstore, dress shop, etc. etc. right in the building with delivery service. She can have breakfast in bed, too. She is very happy.
Heard from Rogers the other day. After graduating + trying New York she is going to Canada for some reason. Right now I too would like to go somewhere distant. Maybe Alaska. Mr. Stead brought his ex-GI son in today and it seems he went to high school with Rogers. Remembers her well.
Painting of Jean Rogers (Solenson) a college roommate of Janice's
This is being a week. This Mr. Burr Brown that Xmas card guy paid me $25 for those roughs. (I put $75 in postal savings Saturday) Anyway, he is a helpful sort. Gives me the names of people who are obligated to him because he helped then get started + they give me information about job possibilities + names of their friends whom I go see in the lunch hour. Haven’t got anywhere yet. They tell me how incredibly nice he is. Has a lot of sough + is not too busy to help out a poor soul by writing letters of introduction, etc. Montana works where he is.
Ran into Dotty Major on Park Ave. Saturday. She was an illustrator in my class. Is starting freelance in oils. Sounds rather tough. (freelance in oils, not Dotty)
The gang did go skiing that weekend. It seems they didn’t have room to take me along, what with an extra couple, etc. etc. etc. + complications. I still think they should have called.
Yes, we must meet this child artist. How long ago did this happen? Mabe B. duck has heard of it.
Got a letter from Shrimp today. Do you know when + if he’s getting out?
If you wanna sell “My Heart has the Hiccups” you’ll hafta come down to
Do you want the citation back?
G’nite love, J
*I know now
Thurs PM march 14 ‘46
Dear Folks,
It seems as if I should have forgotten how to write a letter so lengthy has been this last lapse.
Whew – summer heat. Just like last March. The windows are all wide open so that I can hear singing and ping ponging from the Dugout + likewise I suppose they can hear my ocarina.
You certainly did a job on that laundry bag. It’s better than when new + the capacity seems to be increased somehow. Hereafter I will not be ashamed to be seen on the street with it.
The job limps along. The other day Brandford took me aside + requested that I learn the ropes as to take over if he goes on a vacation this summer. A dreary prospect if I ever heard one. I told him that things were rather impermanent with me. I think he oughta hire a veteran + teach him the ropes. Mr. Stead is leaving us in a month, which will give a blank space. He is trying to hire another girl this week. Young inexperienced thing. I am still trying to work up samples good enough to really take around without apology. Only it is very frustrating, as Nielsen is my critic + everything I do, naturally, is not quite professional, so do it over, he says. So yet I’ve got nothing good.
I certainly hope everything is calm + peaceful in E. Athens by now.
Alice Loubris (Wilson)
Things certainly come in globs. For the last month I have been sitting around with absolutely no place to go. But now – bang! Next week – Tuesday nite – ping pong, Wednesday – wait tables at Church Supper – Thursday – go down to village as guest of Jane Walpole, an ex-room-mate of S.U. with whom I lunched today. She + others have an apartment. Saturday – Fort Jay. And somewhere in there I would like to work a dancing lesson or Y dance with one Alice, a Universalist who wants to polish up on dancing. Also I have found somebody to walk in the park with. Eleanor, another Universalist (who I suspect is the main reason why Ace + Zig come to the ping pong session) but we will not hold that against her. Anyway she is a park-walker + is trying to find somebody to hors-back ride with there. I dunno whether I am susceptible to horsebacking or not.
Well, that just about cleans it up (My new fountain pen is splitting up the side)
Send me some more of those goofy cards.
The wholesome young man had more sense that some thought. Didn’t write.
I go to bed.
love, J
9:30 PM Monday Mar. 18 ‘46
Dear Folks,
That did it, that card. You will now get what you asked for.
I just got back from a dancing lesson. Alice had hardly danced before and what I have been doing once or twice a year couldn’t quite be called dancing, so we are together in a private class with a cute little red headed instructor who had been eating onions. We get four half hour lessons in fox trot + waltz. You learn things this way you can’t get from stumbling around with somebody who can’t dance either. After a little of this we may feel bold enough to tackle one of these semi-weekly dances at the Y.
This morning a new girl started in a Branford Studios and also this morning same girl left same same studio. Magda somethingski was her name – a very young + unseasoned blonde. The impulsive type. I forsee difficulties in getting help to stay there. Recall my remarks about lack of equipment? There is still the same lack only with one more mouth to feed as it were, it is twice as painful. You should see the job I’m on now – 2’ x 3’ box top. MacTaggart sportswear, all plaid except for nameplate and a very complicated plaid you will see if you look it up. The blue lines I fill in solid + the red + green I hafta outline every little piece. Millions, billions of lines. How I curse the original MacTaggart as I sit there struggling to keep the T square + triangle from slipping + making blots when it does.
Speaking of that, I have found an ardent bagpipe fan. Nielsen. He says the sound of pipes does something to him physically. Gets real excited.
And the parade. Darn thing lasted four hours and I got there a couple of hours early for a front stand on the curb. Finally it started, and for the first two or three hours it seemed as if every Irishman in lower New York State must have hiked by. Dozens + dozens + dozens of Catholic schools, military schools with bands, Ancient Orders of Hibernians (?), and finally, at last a couple of small divisions of pipers, not piping, of course, as they passed my section. I was requsted (sic), I looked far down Fifth Avenue + saw what seemed to be miles + miles of Irish high school kids bearing down on us, so phooey, said I and battled my way out thru the 8-deep mob. Went to the Park + bought a bag of peanuts. Found a bench and started to knit when Squee-dee Dee – scores of bagpipes going by again, doing their darndest. I recall hurdling the row of benches, ripping across a couple of Keep Off areas, knocking down a cop and several old ladies, only to find out that, upon reaching the sidewalk and jumping high in the air, I could see maybe a couple of plumes over the top of the mob. I went back to the park, + then it happened again. Had to wait for the parade to finish before I could get home anyway + when I told Twite about it he said, “Oh, the pipers all passed by here on 53rd St. playing for all they were worth.” Bah!
Janice relaxing in Central Park
I have got me a big file and am starting an orderly morgue, or isn’t that what they call it? That calendar you sent will come in handy for historical costume reference.
What is heard from the Shrimp? With the recent emergency he probably won’t get out next month?
Isn’t this lousy writing. A handwriting course I should be taking instead of dancing.
Had dinner at the Barbizon with Regina + Gerda Sunday. It’s really a nice place.
I am rather ill today + yesterday. Could be it was the gastronomically trying weekend. A large can of California sardines in tomato sauce, and I do mean large, no lunch on Saturday, prunes, apples, tomatoes, and milk which was a little sour. All this besides the regular Sunday dinner + Saturday supper. Or maybe it is a bug. About time. I have been disgustingly healthy this winter. Must be that gargle I got for Christmas and have been patiently waiting for a chance to try.
That unseasonable weather has lapsed, I guess. We are now having cold rain, probably snow where you are.
Hope I can get home for Decoration Day weekend.
Well, now ya satisfied?
love, J
11:00 PM Saturday, March 23 ‘46
Dear Folks,
This was going to be a postcard, but things accumulated.
I am eating a dill pickle which I bought in the delicatessen on the way back from Fort Jay sketching. Good thing I went in there, as I found Chris, a girl living downstairs, + made a date with her to go on one of those hikes tomorrow. These things are done by a group that calls itself the Yosians. Every Friday in the World-Telegram they advertise their list of weekend hikes.
What a week this has been for activities. After the last month of nothing at all, it comes as rather a shock. Next week promises more of the same. Dancing class is fun, we are still fox trotting, + plan to attend a social they hold every Tuesday nite at some joint for free.
Friday there came to Brandford Studios to work an Influence, name of Mr. Harris.
He is even More So than Nielsen. When those tow get to debating the finer points of opera and the well-rounded phrases start bouncing off the ceiling, it is something to hear. In spite of all this, Nielsen is not condescending toward us ignorant girls + we all have a good time. He is about as unprejudiced as a person can be. Or so he would have it believed. A very interesting case, and definitely a helpful influence. Right now he’s working on a mural sketch for a Brooklyn Hotel. If he gets the job, and he always gets jobs. I’ve been asked to help with it. This Harris, in the half-day he worked, has really taken over. The place needed a little taking, but I fear he will go too far. Dictated right away a big long list of supplies we needed (good!) and I’m sure he knows more about Production than Branford. B will begin to feel he isn’t needed.
Did I tell you about that plaid job? Spent three days on it. Now it has to be all done over. Not by me, though. I would quit first. Did the thing just as I was told, all on one sheet + now it seems it should have been made in two plates. That was a classic, I will never forget that.
I have a dozen (10) jonquils which look very nice in my brown beer-mug.
How will the postponement of that Atomic tryout affect Shrimp? That Danielle card was good for a laff. (sic)
How goes the painting club. Also what has become of Pop lately?? In spite of what they say about Dill pickles, I’m gonna drink some milk now.
love, J
9:00 PM Monday Apr. 1 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Just got back from our last dancing lesson. How they worked at trying to persuade us to take some more, but we stood firm in admirable fashion. At $5.00 per hour, we have had enough to inspire us to continue on our own. It was fun though + I will miss it.
Alice is mad, + with reason. Friday night she said, she was going to take some kids to a Broadcast. I heard her say that. Church kids. But when Muriel called up Thursday + said that she was supposed to take some kids to a broadcast (Henry Aldrich) Friday night but couldn’t make it, + would I take over, I said sure, unenthusiastically, of course, + after we had finished I wondered for a moment –hmm- I thought Alice was doing that but I must be mixed up, that’s what I get for knowing too many girls + thot (sic) no more about it until I was just starting for the broadcast with my kids + ran into Alice who had been killing time + planning on it all along + she refused to swap places with me but was quite annoyed. I felt awful. Got the kids through it alright + safely home again. Walked ‘em on Broadway afterward, + through the 5+10 at great length.
Today was quite a day. I walk in and there, in Calvin’s place is a new girl, Miss Lillian Auerbach, who seems okay, + I go into my room + the place is practically empty. Mr. stead having moved out, along with his tables + paraphin(?)alia (he used to come in for about 15 minutes every afternoon, + it didn’t pay.) My table is cleaned off + a bright red cardboard tacked on top. While I was absorbing these facts, in comes another new table for Calvin, who is now in our room, so I moved over by the window where Stead used to be. We are a bit jammed. Anyway, back to the ghastly tale – in breezes Nielsen, radiating the usual Monday morning well-being, only more so, in fact, he is gleeful, as today is April 1st. “Will our friend be in today?” he says, referring to C. Harris (Calvin) “I have a neat trick to spring on him”, he chortles. (these two boys are both tenors + do a bit of professional singing when the can) naturally, I am all n favor of this kind of thing. He goes on to say that he will leave a phony message that Mr. Salmaggi, Calvin’s voice teacher called + will call later. Then he, Nielsen, will call, talking like Salmaggi, + give Calvin the works. And he is off, in a burst of exuberance. Much later in comes C. Harris, + receives his message, but insists on calling Prof, Salmaggi back, + finds out there was no call in the first place. He is mad + says, “that is carrying a joke too far. Time passes…it is 4:00, and it seems that is that, + I figure we will have no more, when comes a call for C. Harris. He takes it, and I hear him chatting with Mr. Salmaggi, telling him all about the upset stomach + diarrhea he has been having today. All seems to be going well + happily. He hangs up, says, “Well, I was wrong. It wasn’t a trick after all. That was the Prof., no doubt about it, and I am to have an audition at 8:00 tonight. S0-and-so must have recommended me, good old so-and-so. He must want me to sing on Station W---again” (I omit the letters, as Pop might look it up + find it to be a station in Portland, Ore. Which would embarrass me) It sounds as genuine that I am thinking maybe it was the real thing, not Nielsen, and am hoping so, as he is quite set up and there would be the devil to pay now if he finds out taint so.
“are you sure?” say I “positive, “ he says. “He mentioned some people we both know.” But soon in bounces Cheshire-cat Nielsen, + to him Calvin says, “I’ve had good news, Jon. Prof. Salmaggi just called. Looks as if I’m to sing at so + so. Have an audition tonight.” “Good”, says Jon. “Congratulations.” So being sick anyway, Calvin gets read to go home + prepare for his audition. This is getting to be really painful. In a way, C. has been asking for something like this, going around blowing off in impressive terms about his plans for himself, but then, Jon is guilty of the same, to a certain degree. I tell Jon he’d better do something about it quick or I will, so he writes a note saying sorry, we can’t use you, signed Salmaggi – April Fool. And he followed Calvin out to give it to him in the hall. We never saw either of them again.
It seems Jon really went to town on that phone call. Even talked Italian. A true work of art. I suspect Harris of being capable of extreme violence when angered, + am rather worried for Mrs. Neilsen + the kiddies, even tho Mr. N was once a boxer.
Quite a wolf, this Harris. I got so in the habit of turning sown his nightly invitations that I missed out on a chance to go to the Opera. Maybe Lillian will prove more co-operative.
Yesterday, a lovely hiking day, Chris + I went to Orchard Beach. Walked about 6 miles. It’s very nice + desolate out there. Big rocks with snails all voer ‘em.
I had a cold + can’t talk today as a result.
The Shrimp has been heard from.
What a confusing letter. I just read it + can’t figure it out. Anyway, you can see I’ve been active.
G’nite
love, J
Wednesday PM Apr. 17
Dear Folks,
A slight attempt at letter coming up, with peanut butter sandwich + milk.
This was rhumba lesson night. We’re doing okay.
Things are rather quiet at work this week. Brandford let Lillian go, which leaves a blank spot in the set up. Said he had to cut sown costs. For a while the place was as big as Hoppmans. Kinda jammed. In our room we finally have an arrangement whereby Calvin is happy (comparatively) which is all that’s necessary for peace + harmony. I will draw a diagram of how we are now. Sketch - Cozy, what?
I hear that the Shrimp will descend on us within the next week. Hope he gets home before the Western trip begins. I will not detain him in New York four days this time. We’ll do it in one or two.
Had a good time last night after the games, Ace, Charley, Eleanor, Alice + I walked over to a joint called Gloria Palace, which is where our dancing instructors + pupils go for practice on Tuesday nights. Alice and I were feared lest the other be bored but no! Once inside, we found the place was not a joint, but nice, with smooth floor + 2 orchestras. We all waltzed around + had much fun. Now Charley is saying he will take me for a ride on his motorcycle some Sunday, also his tandem bicycle. What nonsense. I don’t believe it. That guy has everything – cars, bicycles, motorcycles, boats, skiis, and a girl-friend in Boston.
I definitely plan to come home for Declaration Day Weekend. By Greyhound, I hope.
Last Saturday I went out to Forest Hills for the heck of it + walked around. It was bee-yoo-tiful. Bushes, flars, then shine, then rain, etc.
Did CL call the right number when he was down? Nobody told me he called.
I’m eagerly awaiting the bolero suit. Don’t rush too much though.
I hit the hay,
love, J
8:00 PM Wednesday, Apr. 10 ‘46
Dear Folks,
I am spending a quiet evening at home and am having trouble staying awake. Really should be out doing several things.
Have been having a rare time at work for the past three days. Brandford has been giving me finished jobs, drawings in full color, for a false-teeth folder. So far, I’ve knocked out a skull, camera, artist painting at easel, mountain landscape, + other gadgets. That is more like it. Poor old Lillian, however, has reaped the past-up jobs. (Quite co-incidentally that all this dental advertising should come at a time when Calvin + Lillian are busily going to the dentist every day or so.) Yesterday Brandford slipped me a $15.00 check marked Bonus. Neat way to get around giving me a raise, but appreciated nevertheless.
Calvin + Jon survived the joke in fine shape. I hear that C. even congratulated jon on the good imitation he gave. There is trouble in the air now, as Calvin, who is sitting where I used to sit, complains about the light, which is terrible. Thinks he should be over by the window where Jon is. Says he will quit. Always beefing about this or that, + he is right, but goes about it wrong. Rather a problem child. I fear that maybe Jon will be leaving us soon to go to a bigger + roomier place, on the seventh floor of the Grand Central Station. It is a huge tall place, rather spooky + up in the rafters. Belongs to a sculptor. I was up there last Thursday night + posed for a few photos along with Jon + his wife Pegeen who is yet a beautiful model. They’re gonna use these as reference for illustration.
I hope he doesn’t leave, as it is good to have a Struggling Illustrator who is Going Places around, to see how it’s done. His friend Doares, who is struggling in oils keeps coming in with stuff + they criticize each other. Today Doares was in high spirits, just having had something accepted by his agent, + not finding Jon in, took me to lunch. Then we went up to the Airlines Buildings where Dean Cornwell, of whom you have heard, no doubt, was painting on his mural, a tremendous thing, worth seeing and which he has been at for years. He Doares are pals or acquaintances anyway. Mixing paint for him he has a little guy I met at the League, a friend of Montana’s.
I still make samples. May start one tonight even. Got a cute one the other night featuring a lion cub.
Alice is okay now + I guess we’re gonna take rhumba lessons if we can talk the guy down. (Whee! I just got a special delivery. An income tax blank, of all things to deliver specially. New York State tax. Muriel said she would mail me one, as she is in the business + I didn’t know where to get one, but special delivery. Wow!) Anyway, back to dancing, that Saturday dance at the Y was mobbed. About 3 guys to every gal + it was too packed to really dance. Poor Alice was too scared to get up, so sat out several, then went home. I stayed + dance with about 5 guys, only 2 of which I could follow. The others were torture.
Ginny Rupp fell off a house and has been out of work for 3 days.
Regina is an aunt, and has lost her waitress job because of the 12:00 curfew law she says.
That trip to Akron sounds like fun. I would like to take a trip somewhere, Athens, Pa. for instance.
Did I tell you I saw the thundering herd a week ago Tuesday? Eleanor had Ace + Zig pretty well in hand and was working on Charley. We all walked home through the park, which was nice + glittery after the rain. Charley babbled amiably about some weekend bicycle trip they were gonna take + would I go, but this time I fooled him, as I don’t believe a word of it + am endeavoring to forget about it completely.
Took the kids to a broadcast again, with another gal’s help. Got to choking in the middle of it + was very glad to see it finish. “The Sheriff” very dull.
Can it be that Monday the shrimp losses his job? Last letter he wasn’t too sure. I would like to see him come in the week of the 20th, altho that would conflict with the Akron excursion, nicht war?
Guess I’ll stop this + do some washing. It being too late now to start samples. I’ll read Lorna done, which was recommended to me by Jon. Very quaint, but slow reading, a little difficult to grasp, but entertaining.
Need any more paints or anything?
G’nite,
love, J
6:00 PM Saturday May 4 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Here is a cold rainy day going on but that’s okay, as I have nothing planned for this weekend.
Just went shopping in a large way. Got a pen, Eversharp, which I am using. I wanted it mostly to sketch with. Nielsen always sketches with a pen – gets good results + recommends it highly as an antidote to the tight precise stuff I do all day every day. Nice wide point. Dark green.
Also got three blouses at half price at a sale Macys had. One est. luscious nibby linenish silk, salmon colored. Another same shape, white crepe. One is shocking pink. Also got some black stuff for a summer skirt. Darn things, cotton, sell for $6.00.
Calvin got the sack yesterday. Didn’t bother him too much, as he has another job lined up to walk right into. He was gonna quit anyway, if things didn’t improve. Kept griping about the sloppy way Brandford runs the place, + he was so right. Kept at Brandford to buy supplies + thinks, + succeeded in this sometimes by buying stuff on his own and presenting Brandford with the bill, much to the old boy’s flabbergastion. Now that he’s gone things will sag back. We’ll miss him, awful thing that he was, + it was beginning to become apparent that maybe he had good points. A spoiled brat, conceited, + not too bright, but honest, I guess, integrity + stuff. Or so he tells me. A violent character, of the kind that has trouble fitting in places.
The Illustrator’s show was nice. Originals by all the big boys were on exhibit, + the big boys themselves were standing around. Went with Mr. + Mrs. Nielsen and Mr. + Mrs. Doares. Saw in person, John Gannam, Al Parker, Gilbert Bundy, and Albert Dorn. Probably also others I didn’t know who were.
The next few weeks promise to be very dull. I still plan to come home over the 30th.
When you send back the laundry bag, you don’t need to include the flannel night wear. I could use a summer pajama or something if there is one there. If there’s room you can send the blue jeans + a light blue shirt that was Shrimps, chicken feed sack dress, tan cotton shift + any other cotton dress that’s clean.
Well, I guess I’ll start working on those coats of arms for my ex-roommate that have been hanging fire for months.
S’long.
love, J
9:00 PM Saturday, May 11 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Your long letter came yesterday. Those trips sounded like fun. I hope to make one myself soon, but when I asked Brandford whether we worked the 30th he hedged around as usual – ah, uh, er, maybe we will, maybe we won’t. I’ll hafta quit to get it off. I will do so.
This was a nice day our. The radio said rain + it spattered now and then, so I called up + cancelled my berth on the Jersey painting trip (that’s the one I went on 3 times before, each time it rained) so it cleared up nice.
Yesterday Calvin called up + had a job he couldn’t handle + thought I could – wash drawing of a hernia, of all things! Another one involving a finger. So I did these things ($14-) for me) and took ‘em over to his apartment this morning. It seems his mama + stepfather (new) had just come in from Baltimore, where they live. They were there, + Calvin + his roommate had just got up and were running around in their bathrobes. There were some changes to be made on the hernia, so I did it there, amid furniture-moving + vacuum cleaning. C. says that + apparently there is on one at his new place who does Sonnds all right for a little extra cash.
Did Shrimp decide to take the MIT exams?
The prizefight last night fell through, as our escorts never showed up. Alice + I went to the movies, slightly annoyed, but far from heartbroken. Twite told me this morning that Bob, who is the fireman called at 10:00 + said they had smashed the car up, which seems to me neither here nor there, especially at 10:00 when the date was at 8:00. In short I do not believe this tale. I’m surprised, though that Twite had the decency to relay this message. Fireman said when he finally contacted me Sunday nite last that he had called 7 times + asked to have messages left, also that Twite was very nasty! That was the first I’d heard of it. I had forgotten this character existed. And so it shall be from this time hence. Twite is mean, though about things. Chris has more trouble than I. Difficulty with Twite seems to be in direct proportion to the number of gentleman friends one has. One nite I heard him actually slam the door in the face of a friend of Chris.
For all I know maybe something choice like Charley has called, but I doubt it. There is a heck of a nice guy, one which gives me a thought on the average of once every six weeks, then thinks better of it. Makes me mad, though, all this talk of motorcycle, tandem bike, hostelling, etc. etc. + no follow-up at all.
Rogers has graduated + is home. I’m going out there tomorrow.
They have thumb boxes + I’ll price ‘em with your square palette. Handy things. Shall I bring one home it they’re under $10.00?
Disgusting about that suit stuff from Barneys. They’re always blabbing bout 24-hour alteration service for ex-servicemen. Maybe they mean 24-day.
Alice and I are taking Lindy lessons in a group class at the Y. don’t believe I’ll ever make a jitterbug.
This afternoon I went out to Prospect Park, a lovely place. Vast + gorgeous. The azaleas + stuff all are bursting. Must have walked ten miles. Am weary. Shetched bears at the Zoo. There was one who sits like this. People bounce peanuts off his chest which is what he wants.
Guess I’ll write to B. Duck
S’long. love, J
B. Duck - Leona Towner (Rem) lifelong friend of Janice
11:15 Pm Monday May 20 ‘46
Dear Folks,
This will hafta be a quick one. I just got back from an enjoyable three hours at one Modern Art class for ex-GIs under the supervision of Prof. Harry Sternberg. Got in thru Nielsen, who is very chummy with the prof, being the honor student and all. Most of these GIs, I am sorry to say have hardly passed the finger painting stage. Some good ones though. With Modern Art it’s hard to tell who’s good. I’ve been invited to a birthday party they are having for the prof. Bring your ocarina he says to me. Can’t go though, as that’s a night I sketch at Fort Hamilton. Too bad, it will be an enjoyable affair, but maybe I’ll get back in time.
Didn’t accomplish much today. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, kept gazing blankly into space – all because of a topper coat I foolishly purchased. Reduced. Lovely material, light gray with yellow stripe-check. (Sketch) I’m worried about the fit. They’re making alterations + I get it Wednesday.
Rogers moves in with me tomorrow until she can find a room somewhere.
Yesterday was nice. Chris and I went out to Howard Beach by subway + bus. She had been there before + had a very vague idea of how to get there, but we made it nicely. Walked across a long bridge, + along a bare windswept boulevard, way out into nowhere along the shore of something. Not a soul for miles. Suddenly what should we come upon but a large fat clean new mattress sitting neatly behind a clump of bushes. Could it be somebody’s way of solving the housing shortage, we thought, or perchance a trysting place, or had it fallen from an airplane. It was only after we had sat down on it and began to eat our lunch that the possibility of bedbugs dawned on us. Or maybe somebody had died on it. Anyway, Chris must needs rip it open to see if money is inside. She had just started to do this when she realized that somewhere along the line she had parted from her pocketbook. Sooo- in a frenzied state we retraced our footsteps through the sand dunes + scrub grass, up onto the sidewalk, back into the sand, down into the swamp (all very exciting) finally losing ‘em in a bunch of grass where we decided we had sidewalked again. At which we gave up + were walking mournfully off when we spied a familiar landmark + went down for one more look. In all that vast space Chris walked right onto it (little thing the color of sand) + that was the happiest moment of her life it seemed. ‘Twas worth losing it just to have such a nice harmless adventure. We went back to Howard Beach, swang in some swings, found 2 four leaf clovers, got into an argument with a little boy clipping a hedge, + so home.
Got a beautiful new bubble blowing set. Only 10c now, whereas at first they were 75c, then 35c. They were blowing thick + fast yesterday, also a yard wide. A black cat with a white face emerged from the garage-house out back. Looked up amazed. Leaped on a fence to grab for the nearest bubble. Lost his balance – toppled off, pretending, of course, that he meant to get off anyway. I nearly fell out the window laughing at the poor sap.
Can’t wait till a week form Thursday. Shall I bring the radio?
G’nite. love, J
10:00 PM Saturday, June 8 ‘46
Dear folks,
What a day! Outing at Bear Mountain for 18 Universalist Sunday School kiddies.
10:00AM Sunday morning now. There were four girls supervising, along with Dr. Hersey. Every three minutes we had to stop + count the little dears, who were constantly rushing off madly in all directions. They ranged in age from 6-14. Sample – “Where’s Brucie?” “He went down for a drink of water.” Where’s Dennis?” “ He went after Brucie.” “Donnie, go and bring back Brucie + Dennis.” “Now, where’s Benjy.” “He went after Donnie” “David, stop filing that windowsill.” Etc. etc. Somehow they all got up to Bear Mountain + off the boat in a body. They rode the rides, swam, + boated until 5:00 or so. The last boat left at 5:45 and somehow or other eight kids were missing. Big kids, too. Mostly girls. Teddy stayed to wait for ‘em and the rest of us boated home. Nice cool ride.
The Spanish letter translates thusly:
Dear Mr. Campbell:
We have received with pleasure your very excellent report of our special program transmitted in (on) the [madrugada] of the day Dec. 20, 1945. With genuine interest we have [archivar] (verb) the same, knowing that for us it constitutes a proof of the gentleman + good guys (loose translation, very loose) that are North Americans.
If you visit Cuba and come to Sancti-Spirito, it will bring us much pleasure. Be assured that this is your home.
Our greatest consideration,
Attentively
Luis Rankin Jimenez
Sounds rather clumsy in places, but you get the general idea maybe, the words in [] I don’t know, but you can find ‘em in any dictionary.
Rogers has moved out + I have another roommate. A little ex-Wac, the outdoor girl type, name of Trudy. In fact she is at this time sharing a blanket with me on the sun-roof. She is a sculptor, also a dog-fancier, tennis player + things like that. Seems a good kid.
This has been one of those ghastly weeks. I got a hospital-sketching notice to take the 5:30 Staten Island Ferry on Wed. June 6. so, last Wednesday I took that ferry + waited at the appointed spot for some time. Nobody showed up, so I called the hospital + asked if they were expecting entertainment. Yes, they said, “take the Tottingham local, get off at New Dorp, + take the bus from there.” I did all that, waiting 20-30 minutes for trains + busses, fuming + cussing (they were to have provided transportation from the ferry) + finally arrived 2 hours late, only to be informed that Thursday was the night, not Wednesday. So I bussed + trained + ferried + elled all the way back, + took the 5:30 ferry Thursday night. Nobody there: I called the hospital + they said, “Oh, they’re here already. You should have been in Staten Island at 5:30. Can you take the train out?” I told her no. Enough was enough. Takes 3 hours to get out there + back.
Things went bad at work, too. This morning I ruined a blouse. Washed it + it all streaked. Heaven knows what will occur today. Had a run it with Miss Taylor, the head of this place last night because of no letters of recommendation yet. I can get one from work. Need two. Never mind I’ll ask Dr. Hersey. Well, no more room. Better letter next time I hope.
love, J.
8:30 PM Wed. June 19 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Although by now you must surely have given me up for lost, such is not the case. Truth is, this is the first spare minute I have had in the last week.
Fascinating item of the day: On July 4th, in Mineola, L.I. there is to be held a Scottish Sports Day, a gathering of the Clans. They come down from Canada in full bloom, play games, play bagpipes, have a high time. This is the first one since the War, but my roommate Trudy recalls the pre-war ones + says they’re worth attending. They assemble from all over. This I will hafta see, of course, so I guess I won’t be home for July 4th. It would be nice if you guys could come down for this sometime if not this year maybe next? (combine with annual visit) Hope id doesn’t rain. Trudy also knows of a place where Tartans can be bought by the yard. Handy person to know this T. She works at the League Art Store + brings home all kinds of materials on her G.I. Bill. Sculptor by trade.
The Secretary Evelyn got a case of cabin fever (at home) + is on a week’s vacation while her sister Marjory takes her place. Mr. B. has hired another artist, one Courtney Button, a large, bald, but charming gent. Used to be a dancer in St. Louis (white) Seems efficient.
Guess I’ll hafta knock off now + go to a dance class. I promised Alice I’d attend with her. I’d rather stay home + listen to the fight.
THURSDAY PM.
I’ve just washed my hair. Trudy is doing abstractions.
Got a letter from B. Duck. Don’t let this get around, but she’s bringing one of the Indians back with her in September. Vishnu his name is.
Chris and I never got to take our Bike trip thru Connecticut. We got down to the station at 7:40 AM, only to find that you had to bring your own bicycles + it cost $5.00 per way. So on the way back we stumbled upon a group of busses (with people) going on an outing to Bayside Park, L.I. A little cross-eyed boy (Junior) ran out + gave us a sales talk, so it was either this or the Vanderbirds, a group of elderly people who go bicycling on Staten Island. All the way down to South Ferry back up we were yessing + noing, getting off + getting back on, trying to make up the mind. The outing won. Name of this outing was Danny’s Bowling club, affiliated with the Waldorf Bar + Grill. Everybody in the vicinity of 53rd St. seemed to be going + a loud crowd it was, but well-behaved withal, with one exception: One old fool got so tight by the time we arrived that he was unable to had over a ticket he had that was to be sold to me, with the result that I never did pay for the thing. We had turkey dinner, boated all day. Chris got burned, + so did Junior, who insisted on tagging along + being the most bothersome of bothers. We were accompanied on this rowboat by 2 young gents, Joe + Richard.
(sketch of Richard Haban at left) Nice, wholesome lads. Richard is very cute, but a hopeless hep-cat. Joe is more our type, but about 30 lbs. too corpulent. Tuesday they took us out to La Guardia Airport, + explained this + that about planes + all. Lovely drive out + back, except for a flat tire in Queens somewhere. On the way out there is a drive with a distant view of Manhattan, all in a little clump like a fairyland, what with the sun setting , + all shades of purple, coral, orange, etc. etc., also silver + other shades, it was even better than from the Geo. Washington Bridge.
Mr. Button isn’t quite as bright as Jon, I fear. A bit on the blundering boy side.
I got in Pratt for next fall, definitely Afvertising Design, just what I need.
Did shrimp hear from MIT yet?
Sunday Joe + Richard are taking Chris + I out to Orchard Beach to row + swim. I don’t know if Richard approves of this – he slept all the way home from the airport, whether bored or sleepy, I couldna say. If the weather continues Cold like this it will be off anyway.
Poor old Trudy, just back form the tropics, has to cover up with all available coats these nights.
Had lunch with the Hoppman girls a week or so ago. Ginny has a boyfriend at last, tall dark handsome, educated + well-to-do.
Well, I put up the hair now, eat an orange, read American Artist, + go to bed.
love,
J.
(sketch of Chris Russel)
7:30 PM Saturday June 29 ‘46
Dear Folks,
At last a letter happens. I’m sitting in the 77th St. East River Park + Playground for kiddies, observing to my left a pair of deaf mute women gossiping energetically beside a baby carriage full of unusually quiet kids. One let out a squawk + was silenced by a bit of sign language. Now their husbands come over, + begin wig-wagging. They all go.
I’m spending a quiet weekend at home, having turned down three good offers so far (a) painting trip with that SU character I met in the Automat (friend of Fuller’s) one Lenny Caan, (b) active day with Joe, driving around in convertible, having dinner at Uncle’s house, going to Italian wedding party at nite (c) Day at Jones Beach with Muriel + eight girls from her office. All these lovely offers I have rejected, as I feel the rare urge to catch up on washing, ironing, letter writing, + sample making.
(that 2-year old kid seems to be using an elementary sign language)
That cotton nightgown was just the thing. I’m getting tired of pajamas + this won’t have to be ironed. Very nice. Tha tbirthday card, I will say, was about as hideous a birthday card as it is possible to make a birthday card. I believe you realize this.
(life drawing fro the Art Students League)
Last night I went down to Rockaway Beach Playland to investigate a job that advertised on the Art Student’s League bulletin board. Portrait sketches in the amusement area. I got cold feet before I even found the guy, as it takes about 2 hours to get out there + I could not see myself coming home in the wee small hours every night + besides the crowd out there is not too choice. Joe went along + we rode roller coasters + things + walked on the beach by the roaring breakers. The ocean is very impressive at night, although I doubt if it impressed Joe. He is what Nielsen refers to as a peasant, I fear, nice, sweet, kind with beautiful brown eyes, but one of whom enough is enough + I’ve had enough. Not gonna give up though until I get a ride in that convertible. This will happen Monday or Tuesday (the Artist had already hired a guy anyway).
There’s another deaf mute. There must be a colony around here. Did I send you the card with the ear of corn? I don’t think I did but can’t find it anywhere. How about the black pansy one? I seem to be writing upside down.
All goes fine at Brandford Studios except that it is hot as Hades and the window open being the only alternative, we spend half our time crawling around the floor picking up papers. Button still satisfactory.
Muriel is going to the Scottish Day with me. She has more Scotch that I do: MacLean, MacGregor, etc. etc. on both sides.
It darkles + soon I must pick my way thru the swarms of kiddies back to 210.
love, J.
Sketch of Joe Candela
10:30 PM Thursday, July 4 ‘46
Dear Folks,
This seems to be the time to write a letter. I just came down from the roof where I was watching the fireworks and engaging in a rapid-fire conversation with an entertaining + amiable young thing from seventh floor. She has been in New York 5 days, has been engaged 5 days + instead of an engagement ring has a promise of a lovely island up in Lake Champlain, away from it all, where they will live. She’s reading the same book I am, “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran, + her mother also writes her long yellow letters. It was a lot of fun + should happen again except that in her present state she prefers to be alone.
Muriel and I went out to the Scottish affair today. Lovely day for it. Millions of people there, mostly from New York + New Jersey. I really felt out of place without a Scotch accent. Tried to develop one on the spur of the moment but it was a flop. We kept hearing things like “Blaw th’ whustle noo, Jockie boy” “Dinna gae oot i’ th’ rawd, Dooglas” etc. etc. Everybody had ‘em except the young kids + Muriel + I it seemed. There were hours of Highland Fling competitions, individual piping (mostly kids) soccer games + occasional Scotsmen piping around in out-of-the-way corners. These were the boys who were approached + pestered by M + I. One obliging gent explained the workings of the popes = another gave off with “Bonnie Dundee” upon request. Pipes cost about $100.00 he said. Except for the Bonnie Dundee I asked fork the tunes were all unfamiliar to me. Only flaw or flaws were thus: About 2:00 I suddenly became ill, an intestinal bug that’s going around. This lasted for an hour, + by the time I recovered, Muriel was sick, so we dopily left about 5:30. I have a souvenir (slight) that I’ll bring home. The Campbell Argyll Tartan costs $8.95 a yard.
By the way, I’ve been thinking of taking a week off in July. (maybe) Business is very slow.
The gingerbread cookies are very good. Trudy thinks so, too.
An awful thing happened last might. I was supposed to meet Chris for a concert at 8:00. We made the arrangements while riding in a roaring subway, + I thought, in fact would have sworn she said the NW corner of 58th + 5th Ave. Stood there for half an hour, then gave up + went to the concert alone. All the time she was fuming on the NW corner of 58th + Lexington, + getting very upset + disappointed + mad, which I do not blame her for. Moral: always write it down.
Finally got to ride in the convertible. It runs, if unevenly. It is not much for beauty, as whoever bought it back in ’38 knew he’d never get it paid for + really gave it a beating. Dented, chipped, battered, cracked, leaky, squeaky, but the apple of Joe’s eye. The front seat tilts back at a ghastly angle, giving me a good view of the sky, which is something. The windows are rather permanently opaque. But it does run, + he will hear no word against it. I shall certainly not complain. Oh yes – it doesn’t convert.
They still bang away outside. By the way, did you get the cannon out this year? Was there anything along that line in E. Athens?
I have a very cute new dress, which is just what I’ve been looking for - cotton, black ground, light pink plaid (sketch) ruffles. Saw it advertised in the paper + got it next night. This doesn’t do it justice.
Janice in the dress sketched above in her mother's garden on a visit home
This MIT deal is very good. I couldna quite figure out where the guy from Scranton worked in. Was he connected with the MIT exams, or was that something else.
Don’t know what to do with this long weekend. I came too suddenly. Would have come home if I’d known about it soon enough to get a bus reservation = not made a date for Friday nite. And not had this Scotch day planned. And arranged something with Rogers.
Rogers seems to be hitting on all cylinders at the Hartford Retreat. Handsome intelligent young men pursuing her as usual.
My roommate has a job in a window display place, modeling animals. She’s annoyed because she has to copy other people’s dogs that are all out of proportion + anatomically incorrect.
Now let’s hear bout you.
love, J.
Sunday AM July 20, ‘46
Dear Folks,
I was going to write this with my new fountain brush but find that it soaks through to the back of the paper.
Last letter received that of Pop. Seems as if I got a post-card later but can’t find it. Wish I could go to Tully with you all + be home that week, but things have happened in the shape of Rogers, who has quit her job at Hartford Retreat (boring + no future in it) but not until August will she be free, so I’ll wait till then. Brandford takes his vacation in August but I guess I’ll be able to sneak off a weekend + maybe a day.
What a cool morning it is. Rained last night, after the hottest muggiest day we’ve had, but the sun is coming out now. At 10:00 Margie, Richard, + Joe pick me up to go out to a beach near port Washington, L.I. that we discovered last week.
Joe and Janice frolicking at a lake
I have a cold in the head [present from Jon, who got his from young son Ian] with which I was in bed most of yesterday. Also I was recuperating from the night before, when six of us went out to Rye Beach amusement park. I’t the best one around here, not as big as Coney Island but nicer. Had all kinds of horrible deadly rides + survived a fun-house with barrel rolls, long steep steep slides, etc. etc. Then we all had a pizza, one of these big Italian pies with cheese + tomato + stuff. It’s a long was out there + I didn’t get home till morning. This wild life has to stop. You can’t burn your bed on both ends and eat it too, it says here.
The six are made up of two friends of Joe, Jack + Paul, with whom I fixed up Alice, who brought a friend Helen. They are all very nice, + Alice seems to hit it off with Jack like everything. He seems quite choice – tall + Irish, I think.
My word, guess what Mr. Brandford is doing. You never will. Anyway, I had noticed things lying around the office with “Brandford Models” featuring “The Brandford Girl” printed on, but thought of course he was kidding, until I say a bunch of letterheads made up like that. I mad inquiries and found out that he’s starting a model agency for colored girls, like Conover + Powers. The Powers girl, won’t that be fun. Maybe there’ll be more money in that than art. Courtney + Jon, also Bob Doares are getting ambitious too. Courtney, as agent, is gonna take samples of our work around in his spare time. First thing we know it will be Button Studios.
Well, it is now 10:05 so I’d better start getting ready. I’ve a feeling the convertible will be unreasonable today. Joe’s brother “fixed’ it yesterday.
Wish I were in Athens Pa. this week. Ah well, the time will come.
S’long.
love, J.
Friday PM July 11, ‘46
Dear Folks,
Seems as if I haven’t done this in over a week. Last communication, that card from the Shrimp, convulsed me. That cat! Thanks for the birthday present. Very well chosen.
I heard from Rogers, + she plans to have a weekend off soon. Still agrees to come home with me, so maybe you’d better disregard all that babble about taking a eek off. It’ll be a weekend instead. Maybe I’ll take a week in September, when B. duck comes home.
Spent the day drawing 3 pieces of jewelry. He asked me to come in tomorrow morning for some overtime work on heads, showing various forms of page-boy bob.
Across the hall from us is a colony of French girls. They seem to be laboring under the delusion that because we don’t know what they are saying they can scream it out with abandon. Day + night the halls ring with ooooooOOOoooo Mercieee! Yata-ta ya ta-ta ya ta ta. Trudy is fed up with the Y’s + remarks disgustedly, “Ugh. Women, women, women, bells ringing, + women shrieking French all over the place. Give me an apartment any day,” she says, + is looking for one. She is a good roommate + I could certainly do much worse.
At 8:00 Joe + a friend + a couple of other friends are coming over, + we will pick up Alice and all go to some amusement park or something. The convertible now converts. Joe made a top for it out of some green and white striped awning left over from his uncle’s store. Keeps the rain off. It still has its peculiarities. I remark upon this, and am shattered when one of these gaping passers by yells, “Hey bud, you’re losing gas” or “You’re smoking. Got your brakes on?” Alas.
What are you, Moon, Soprano, Mezzo-soprano, contralto, or what?
I have a lovely new sketching pencil. Enclosed find a sample of it.
A sketch of Trudy was enclosed with the letter
Special quick –drying ink – in fact it’s a fountain brush, not a pencil at all.
Jon + Courtney ran bodily into Gary Cooper on Fifth Ave. the other day. He had something in his eye. “Mr. Cooper”, exclaimed Jon, + they chatted a while. Very nice guy, Jon says. I wasn’t there, of course.
Well, 8;00 had come upon us, + I close. Seems as if there is something else that should be discussed, but I can’t dig it out now. Laater, perhaps.
Hope you are all enjoying the best of the best.
love, J.
Thursday PM Aug 1 ‘46
Dear Folks,
At last. It is nearly bedtime, but I’ll try to squeeze this in.
Your inquiring letter at hand. Trudy urges me also to keep up the portrait. Vehemently. However, I shudder at the thought of looking upon that Dorleon job again. Maybe you could shroud it, except for the hand.
What a mad day this was! Brandford left last night. It’s unfortunate that his trip to Jamaica coincides with the launching of the Brandford Models. Prospective models keep calling up, + even people wanting models, but Mr. B. doesn’t seem to have told anybody what to do about these cases. We dunno what to say to ‘em. It’s sad because it’s such a marvelous idea + should be followed through. Mr. B has apparently given birth to a beautiful brain-child + left it squalling on our doorstep. He will be gone a month. Courtney is in charge + is going insane. I’m doing likewise. Even Evelyn seems near the breaking point already – after one day. But Nielsen goes on at his leisurely pace, having good time batting our colorful doodads. He’s not connected with this horrible catastrophe.
Pencil sketch of Evelyn Harding
I just went shopping and bought a beautiful bottle green crepe dress so that I won’t feel like such a hayseed at the officers club next time. I go there with Muriel + Mickey. Do a spot of sketching + dance some. Never saw so many tall ensigns. The dress is like this only better.
The convertible lives on. Last seen starting under its own power, leaking a bit.
Enclosed find a gismo I discovered in my junk drawer. A souvenir of the U.S.S. Neuendorf. Thought ya lost it, didn’t ya, Shsrimp. Do you have living quarters reserved at MIT?
Trudy has definitely decided to go + study in Paris next spring, on the GI Bill. Is quite enthusiastic. She has more darn friends. Tomorrow night she is to go up to Connecticut, pick up a monkey + drive this monkey to the house of another friend.
When we come home this week will the Huckleberry season still be on? A huckleberrying expedition would be a good thing to do with Rogers, thereby getting in some hiking also. The darn things cost 10c for a teeny dish here in NY.
For some reason I am sleepy. Tomorrow promises to be more hectic than today. Poor Button, he didn’t want to take over any more than I did. We need about 2 more artists but can’t just up and hire these in the absence of Mr. B.
When I come home, shall I bring the Dutch relief clothes I’ve accumulated, or don’t they still need ‘em.
Groggily yours, J.
Sunday PM Aug. 25 ‘46
Dear folks,
I was distressed to find you’ve been worrying about my state of health. Hope you got the telegram. I phoned it + believe they garbled it a bit.
Didn’t you know I always recover from things? Anyway, the Studio club is supposed to notify parents if inmates are too bad off. I stayed in bed 2 days + the fever left. I now have only a sore throat which doesn’t bother. Doctor didn’t say what it was.
I didn’t get your letter until Saturday, as I left Friday nite for work for Baldwin, came home from there about 5:00 + rushed off to sketch in Brooklyn Hosp. Anyway though, the neglect was inexcusable.
Thursday nite I had my first driving lesson, in Queens, right on a broad highway with traffic, red lights, etc. When it was all over, the flattering comment was, “Anyway, you know the brake from the clutch”.
Today Regina and I went to Jacob Riis Park Beach, quite a nice place, with a lot of surf + beach. Had quite a pleasant day+ I’m a bit raw after spending yesterday morning at Jones Beach with Rogers. Friday nite was a novel experience. Mr. Rogers took Jean + me to the auto races. What thrills, more crack-ups, explosions, etc. but nobody hurt. Some of ‘em were really spectacular. These were the small racers, some with outboard motors, others ford, + motorcycle. Usually hand made jobs.
I have from Joe a big bouquet, presented after I had recovered. Big pink asters + dahlia, lavender chrysanthemums, yellow marigolds (is that possible yet?) + a couple of pale gladiolus. Had to leave ‘em alone Friday + Saturday + when I came back they were droopy + sad. Cut the stems off + gave ‘em more water + they are better than ever.
I’m gonna try to get the second week in September off if I hafta leave the employ of B to do so.
That’s all for now. I go to bed to recuperate from weekend.
love, J.
Brandford Models Inc. Card:
Dear Folks,
Pardon this bit of drollery entitled “Brandford Models, Inc”, which isn’t really incorporated + Mr. Brandford could be put in jail for using the term on his stationary + envelopes. I have it from Skiz, who has studied law. Don’t tell anybody.
Thank heavens next week they are moving somewhere else. Half of the art supplies are in their “conference room” + I have to barge in on ‘em every ten minutes for a pen or scissors.
It’s raining. I’ve been invited out to Baldwin again this weekend. Saw “Make mine Music” tonight. It’s worth seeing, if it hasn’t hit Athens before this.
Well, to bed, where the room-mate has long since gone.
love, J.
Caption for card:
X Brandford Models
1- Evelyn chatting with friend + eating lunch.
2 – Jon ‘nuff said
3 – George Petri, husband of Ann Petri, who wrote “The Street”. He writes copy.
4 – Me, hard at work.
5 – Moron delivery boy wondering who to had package to.
Conference
6 – Barbara Watson
7 – Mr. Brandford, wondering how to get out.
8 – Mary Louise Yabro, mouthpiece of the organization
9 – Skiz Watson
No exaggeration
8:00 PM Tuesday ‘46
Dear Folks,
I sit surrounded by a bouquet of flesh-pink gladiolus, big yellow dahlia, + some queer lavender spikes that seem to blossom down. Fuzzy flowers – illustration – Guess its just as well I didn’t bring flars from home.
I told you about the room-mate business. That was a horrible feeling, when I staggered in, asked the figure in bed if it would be okay if I turned the light on to unpack. “Yes” it said, so I turned it on, + found myself staring into the faces of half a dozen strange photographs. Turned the light out quick + made inquiries as to what was up. Discovered that Trudy had moved out Monday or Tuesday, nobody knew where – no notes or anything. Today I got around to asking at the desk about her. Was very embarrassed to learn that she had just moved up to a single room on 8th floor. Guess she couldn’t take it. The new RM is named Dot Brown, a sweet young thing, engaged, studying voice. She’s been here a year or so.
Brandford couldn’t get a satisfactory artist during my absence. Had a couple in, but they were a little green.
Jon has at last purchased a real matched suit. Glen plaid, gray – snazzy. Only “due to the barber’s strike” he has need; dire need or a haircut which spikes the effect a bit.
Shrimp, what was the tire size again” 20.600? 20.200? what???? Joe seems to think they can be bought here. How many do you need?
Yesterday I bought a cup, saucer, + soup bowl in that lovely turquoise-streaked-with brown pottery. Got home, unwrapped the package to find 3 hideous cut-glass ash trays! Needless to say, I lost no time in rectifying this horrible mistake.
Those black loafers will be along soon. They’re a bit battered. Sure you want ‘em? I got a new pair that fit sooner About the new ones you want, would suede be acceptable? How about a plain with detachable bow? How about a tailored job?
Rogers came in yesterday. I forgot to tell you – Rogers admires little Emersons very much. Sometime when you are making Emersons could you perhaps scrape up a midget Emerson? Or send me the fur, buttons, + hand material. I have black cloth.
I must write to B. Duck. I rechecked on Vish. He is a Brahmin.
love, J.
11:00 PM Thursday Sept 26 ‘46
Dear Folks,
It’s been a rushing-and-getting-nowhere day. I shoe-shopped with no success. Many stores are closed because of Jewish holidays.
The gladioli finally came on Tuesday, curses upon all those engaged in delivering the U.S. mail. It was very sad, as you can well imagine. They were in bad shape. I didn’t have the heart to identify the bodies, but cut every one off + put them in water for a fighting chance. Some actually perked up. Now I have about ten hardy souls in the beer mug, like so- the brown one with the red center has done the best. Second comes a white job with small pink spot in center.
In the opposite corner we have a large boisterous display of huge red + white dahlias which Joe brought in, not realizing that the glads recovered. These two outfits fight, but it’s okay as they are in opposite directions. My present room-mate, Jane, who is pinch hitting for Dottie, will wear dahlias in her hair this week. Perhaps, I, too. They’re as big as hats.
Wish there weren’t so much jund around this sroom. When I’m home for Thanksgiving, methinks I will bring back the Article. Will we be able to handle Joe over Thanksgiving if he’s still around, and he has every intention of being around?
Am I glad I went to the Officer’s club last night. Had…..
Sketches of Vishnu and Leona
Sunday AM ‘46
Dear Folks,
I will now send along the rest of the B. Duck photos. Some of ‘em are pretty gruesome, no? I got a very nice letter from Vishnu the other day, thanking me for the 2 wooden animals I sent to B. duck and himself. Dog + mule. He says, “A parcel containing two zoological specimens of doubtful origin and ancestry arrived here safe and sound the other day. I took the liberty of imagining that one of them was for me – the mule probably – but we started fighting over it so we drew lots and I got the canine specimen. Thank you for same. I am planning to take him with me to classes and seminars and play with him when it gets tiresome listening to some old fossil” He goes on very amazingly about things – “convey my regards to your parents” (I should have included the letter!) I enjoyed it tremendously.
Mary Wands Campbell with Vishnu Bhide and Janice
Today is a gorgeous day. I’m waiting for old Protoplasm, who is taking me out to the country where I will paint his portrait, as nobody around here had room for this undertaking. There’s no place in the Club. His relatives won’t have it. (jealous) I call him protoplasm because he’s gaining weight again.
Evelyn, Brandford’s secretary isn’t with us anymore. The new one’s Connie.
Cousin Howard never called last night, + I sat home waiting. Why will I never learn??
Enough for now.
love, J.
5:45 PM Thursday Oct 3 ‘46
Dear Folks,
Guess I’ll get this started now between work + supper, after which I go down to Brooklyn (Pratt). It’s dark already + as I sit at the desk I see lights popping on all over the landscape. Shades of grayed blue + pink prevail, glitterishly. A half moon is riding full speed toward the Empire State Building. Mr. John Grabowski, the new artist + the other artist, a colored boy named Oscar (both quite good, by the way) are still working.
Time out for supper and a subway ride to Brooklyn. It takes exactly 40 minutes to get from work to the classroom. 45 back.
This class is called Advertising design 2D + consists of 2 nights a week of rendering, different techniques + mediums + how used, and one night (this) of reproduction methods, which should be valuable. I did want layout, but may have to wait until next term. The prof. is named Mr. Garry, + he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on yet.
All this schooling + stuff really fills up a week. Hard to find letter-writing time. I was glad to discover that this class only runs from 7:30 _9:30 which gets me home from here by 10:30 in time to wash hair if it’s necessary.
I’m very relieved to hear that the dress was a fit. I worried about those hips. Bet it looks good though, when I saw it my first thought was, “Moon??” Would have got one for myself too if it came in 12 or 14 (maybe).
The name of that tune is indeed, ”Stone Cold Dead in de Market”, Ain’t it a lulu? For another cute one listen carefully to “South America Take it Away”.
I didn’t buy the shoes yet, so won’t. How about that coat? They’re cute this season. I haven’t had a chance to get a nightshirt yet, but will.
In addition to all this rush my social life has increased to incredible proportions, only I haven’t had time to think about it yet. Maybe its not as bad as it seems. Hospital sketching Saturday nite, only now I hear from cousin Howard that he will be in town that night + plans to call. He gets priority, as I must see what 7 years have done for him. Friday night I paint Joe’s portrait. (sort of miss the flea-bitten old thing. Haven’t seen him all week) Saturday – serious driving lesson. Sunday heaven knows what.
Our Prof. arrives.
I am now on the way home via the 8th Ave. Express. That was a very good class – stuff I should have had 2 years ago.
I’m sending some snapshots I have from B. Duck. Keep out any that you may want (?!?) + send back the rest along with a list of numbers of those kept out. I won’t send ‘em all this tri as I couldn’t figure out the postage + besides I want to show around the one of shrimp + car, which is a honey. You’ll probably want more of it.
Oh yes! The cookies! They are superiffic, + we have managed to obtain a bottle of milk today, which makes for a good snack. The trick about milk is buy it in the morning (big shortage here).
I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but the end of the line is drawing near, + there I change for a crosstown bus. I must up write the Shrimp, poor thing.
love, J.
Sunday AM October 13 ‘46
Dear Folks,
I didn’t get around to going to church this morning as planned. What a day! No clouds, no heat, just October’s bright blue weather (so far) and yesterday so dismal.
Joe swears up + down that we’re going to the country today. Emphatically he insists. But this I take with a grain of salt, remembering last week when a lovely promise was held forth of a day in said country painting portrait. Here’s what happened. J came around at 12:00. I’d packed a lunch in hopes we’d get an early start, but allowed myself to be persuaded to lunch at uncle’s house as they were dining right away. (it said there) So, what with doodling around at Uncle’s house we didn’t get started until after 2:00, me fuming slightly. It was a nice day, though, so I soon forgave. We had paints, big portrait canvas, etc. all ready to go on a nice long ride to the country (a nice big woodsy park I’d been hearing about on Long Island) “why are we stopping, I inquired, as we parked after 10 minutes drive.” “This is it” says he (By this time I had given up on the portrait idea + decided to do a big landscape.) But this crummy little park was uninspiring. There was one large shapely elm tree + I started to paint that, but the sun was beating down, I was sticky, bugs kept getting in the paint, there was nothing to prop the canvas on so I used the box, which made a bump. What really did it was Joe’s announcement that we could stay there an hour – as he had to get his folks to a wedding by 4:00. I waxed temperamental – threw brushes, beat him about the head + so we started back. It got to be around 4:30 when we hit Manhattan. I inquired, “What of the wedding?” “Oh shall we go?” “No, no! Your aunt + Uncle” “Oh, they’ve got there by now”
And it was such a lovely day!
I was informed later that his 2 little nephews ate the lunch.
You may gather from this that Protoplasm is a louse. Not usually though, Sunday was one of those days.
I bought a nightshirt for Pop, flannel. Okay? Shall I send it? Stripes, very purty.
Are you sure, Moon, that you don’t want shoes? I saw a cute pair in black suede, tho maybe the heel is too high for you. About 2 ¾”. Glad you liked the dress.
Alas, will you never learn. Here it is Sunday, and no gladiolus again yet. May be able to salvage a few. We did last time.
School is zooming along. That class in Reproduction methods is very good.
For the last week I’ve been associating with an ex-officer (redhead) name of Mervyn S. Ellis. Not very officerish. Tall!! Wholesome type, no smoke + drink. Pilot. Only annoying thing is fact that being from deep south we can not agree on several things.
Well, must rush down + eat dinner.
love, J.
8:15 Friday, Nov. 1 ‘46
Dear Folks,
I may have time to get this started. Perhaps not.
It’s a beautiful balmy summer evening. Yesterday and today I’ve been going around without benefit of coat or jacket.
What’s this check I see here before me? I don’t seem to recall earning that check. Who painted the hands? Who did the hair–ribbon? Who performed the terrible task of facing the customer + transporting the canvas from there to home + back there again? Not I, said the little red ben. So best you divide this bonus among those who did the painful part. I’ll take out my share in trade when I’m home thanksgiving. By the way, will you make me a Dentist Date for Friday or Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend?
It’s now Monday morning. Spent Saturday at Rogers’ + part of Sunday. She’s leading a dull life.
I’ve had some beautiful flower set ups here. On Halloween I was presented with a huge bunch of chrysanthemums + red oak leaves. Also a bag of apples, oranges pears + grapes, + a jack o’ lantern. What a gorgeous eyeful that all was. Now a jersalem cherry has come into my life. What does one do for these?
Chris was sound asleep that day I told you about. Of all people who should I run into sown at Pratt, but Ace, going to night school. It was good to see the old thing again for a short time.
What do you guys want for Xmas? How about shrimp?
Must close as I’ll be late to work, horribly so.
love, J
10:00 PM Thursday Nov. 14 ‘46
Dear Folks,
The cute little jerusalem cherry card came today. Maybe it doesn’t get enough water, at any rate the poor thing is on the way out.
Big double letter from Pop at hand, which is something I always like to see. I will admit, though, to some confusion about the dates – “Fireside Chat: dated Armistice Day,”Fireside Chat supplement” Nov. 10, and the envelope postmarked Nov 9??????
Maybe I will try the Newark gentleman some time. I should not say this, but Dr. Hersey’s sermons seem to get drier + drier.
Will there be any broccoli left by Thanksgiving? Joe likes it, too.
The usual Thursday nite reproduction class was good as ever. It was a photo engraving plant we went thru, not a lithographers. I finally got my terms straightened out.
You should see the lush water color I did in Central Park Sunday. Hardly recognizable, but a step in the right direction. Loose bold color dropping freely around. I must do more. Joe was along + turned out 3 paintings, subjects such as “India” + “Grand Rapids, Mich.” His work might be classified as “primitive”. I believe he may possibly have a good sense of composition. We returned home and put together a jig-saw puzzle up on second floor. He is such a nice old thing!
When are you guys coming down here again? I wish you could see the S. Club.
John Grabowski takes portrait photos + does a careful, artistic, conscientious job. Joe + I were down there last night + took advantage of this service. He’s cheap too, + serves refreshments even. Mrs. G is very nice.
I learned today that Oscar, our colored artist is from Havana, Cuba, speaks Spanish, + is married to a French Canadian girl. They just had a daughter. (How’s the Spanish letter-writing lately?)
Gotta go to bed + make up for last night.
Did I tell you that a number of us, including Rogers, are going to the S.U. - Columbia game?
love, J.
Photos of Janice and Joe taken by John Grabowski
7:30 Pm Sunday Nov. 23
Dear Folks,
This may be the last note before Thanksgiving. I am counting the days, to corn a phrase. (sic)
Chris and I went biking this afternoon, up towards Pelham manor. It started to be a cold day, but once we got started it was perfect. There was a big 4-lane highway aimed for Westchester + New England, along the side of which was a winding bicycle path.
It was beautiful. Through groves of trees, around big rocks, up + down hills, + what with the sun-shining, setting, etc, we had a gorgeous time. Stopped in Pelham for ice cream. The bike Chris had was a pile of junk, but she is sturdy + made the best of it.
My bell just rang. Joe is here + we’ll probably spend the evening down stairs on 2nd putting together jig-saw puzzles like 2 idiots. We just discovered a huge supply of those things in the game cupboard.
Back again, somewhat later. Joe has a cold, hope he recovers by Wednesday nite. We plan to leave around 8:00 PM, allowing for the inevitable flat tire + stuff.
What a sad game we saw Saturday. Poor Rogers will never be the same. Perhaps you’ve heard the score, something like 58-21. Athens would have made a better showing.
Went to Church this morning. Dr. Hersey said, “My your folks really are pillars of the church.” Seemed quite pleased.
Brandford has a new receptionist, a Miss Smith. The two Johns or rather John + Jon are spatting off + on slightly.
That limerick was good. One of yours of course? Oh yes, the letter – terrific.
My Jerusalem cherry is passing on.
Seems half a year since I was home last. Hold on to this nice weather. I shall see you Thursday.
love, J.
Sun Dec 8 ‘46
Dear folks,
Are you there? This is the first minute I’ve had to write since Tuesday, when I took care of the Shrimp. Now that I’ve started this, I find Joe has arrived so I’m down in second floor. Joe is on the other end of the sofa coping with the “Atlantic Monthly”
Joe sends his best wishes.
Funny thing about that car radio. It played in new York + for a while in Jersey. But by the time we hit Pa. she refused to give with anything but a roar. We tried it in Athens, Sayre, Waverly, + intermittently all the way down. When we hit the George Washington Bridge, the darn thing started playing beautifully + has been on the beam ever since. Strictly a New York radio.
This afternoon I went to the Park + knocked off a watercolor or two + became quite chilled.
Friday night Joe + I drove up to Dobbs Ferry to see “The Youngest Professor” a play put on by the D.F. Civic Theatre group, of which Jon Nielsen is a member. He played the father. Very good, the whole thing was. Jon seemed so natural, used the same expressions that he does every day at the office, in fact it was so pronounced that I asked him if he had written the part himself. “Why no,” he said, “matter of fact, I was ad-libbing most of the time.” Seems he always had difficulty remembering his lines. Afterwards we went next door to the dressing house where the cast was milling around being congratulated + wiping off grease paint. We then drove Jon home, + met the famous House. It’s built-over from a 3-car garage. On 3 sides it’s bounded by backyards, + on the other by a lovely little woods. They plan to build a high picket fence on the other side. Ideal setup for bringing up 2 little boys. Inside it’s modern, not quite finished, + sturdy, with studio upstairs. Considering what they started with, it’s terrif. Joe + Jon got to exchanging Army experiences + it was most entertaining. Thought we’d never get home.
Branford is very sick. Also he’s losing money hand over fist + has mumbled something about “adjusting salaries”. Just let him mention adjusting my salary + that will be all. I shall leave + take the Fox Features account with me. I’ve decided to cut out school next term + freelance the Fox Features stuff nights for extra dough.
Jon Nielsen - ca. 1964
Saturday I invested in a pair of glasses. It took only 20 minutes + cost me only $14. I’m worried. Too easy. They’re supposed to be good, though. I shall have ‘em Wednesday.
I didn’t quite discover what you guys want for Xmas. Shall I get Shrimp a scarf? What color is his coat again?
Well, let’s have a letter or ‘sumpin’.
love, J.
What a sloppy letter!
I can use panties or a white slip if you’re stumped for a gift.
Had lunch with that Redhead Tuesday. Am working at these call letter –ts.
11 comments:
Alice Loubris was my aunt. Does the suthor of this have anything more on her .
Hi Judy,
Did you have a particular question? "Auntie" Alice used to visit our family from time to time.
Angela . last we saw Alice was in the 60's. She just disappeared.
Dear Judy,
I tried to send you a message on facebook, but was not able. If you search for me on facebook, I will "friend" you, and we can chat more about Auntie Alice.
I’m just seeing this and it’s fascinating! My aunt was Regina Reynolds, friend of Janice, who lived at the Barbizon from 1946 to her death there in 2018. Janice sounds like a sassy, talented, and wonderful person. Thank you for posting the letters.
So glad you saw this! That's why I started the blog!
So happy to hear this!
I’d be willing to communicate more if you’d like. Text, email, FB messenger?
That would be great! I hesitate to post my contact info here, but you could look for me on Facebook. I rarely use FB, but I think I'd get a message if you tried to contact me there. There are a lot of people with my name, but look for Kansas.
Or you could call my landline and leave a message with your email address. We never answer that phone unless we know the number of the caller. That # is 785.843.7007. A
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