B007RT1UH4 EBOK, Page 3

  Mr. Byrne has been fine, and we have gotten along very well except for a streak when he sort of tried to “hold me down”—not that I wanted to do any thing—it’s just that any one doesn’t like to be “with strings on”—that was in Panama and now in L.A. we get along like regular chums and he is really quite jolly and as a matter of fact was sort of the life of the whole trip.

  There was another nice fellow on the way up from Panama—a twenty-seven year old sailor serving in the navy in Panama. He and I got along wonderfully and were usually partners in conspiring where Wetsy’s future was concerned. However I really took a kidding when Massapequa was concerned—it seemed as if it was brought up in every conversation—but when I got here I saw in the L.A. Daily News a large picture of a bonfire of Japanese made goods in “Massapequa, Long Island!” I tried to get one but it was an early edition.

  At any rate we finally did leave Panama and tho the run up was completely uneventful it was at the same time very exciting. As we got nearer L.A. precautions were much greater—no smoking on deck and absolutely no lights. Lifeboats were slung out and ready, provisioned with food and water, lifebelts always handy, and I had my watch and money and papers in an oilskin pouch always with me. We really expected trouble—in fact Mr. Byrne and I had a two dollar bet on when it would come!—but things quieted as we neared L.A.

  Christmas on the boat was a beautiful day but that’s about all, tho we did have a more sumptuous spread than usual. I had gotten a good burn the day before in the sun, but Christmas it was easier. And to top things off I was presented with a present!—my dirtiest pair of pants wrapped up in wooden cheese boxes!!! My most unique present yet!

  Well now we’re getting settled in Los Angles—it’s quite a large town—spread all over etc. Happy New Year!

  Love

  Bill

  Japan declared war: by bombing Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941. “Davey” Abad: professionally active from 1924 to 1937.

  Ross: J. Ross Byrne, WG’s traveling companion.

  King Herod or Jonathan Swift’s “Modest Proposal”: Herod, bent on killing Jesus, ordered all children of Bethlehem under two to be murdered (Matt. 2:16); Swift’s satirical essay (1729) recommends that the Irish eat their children to avoid starvation.

  Massapequa: WG’s hometown on Long Island; his mother owned a house at 40 Jerusalem

  Avenue.

  To Edith Gaddis

  [WG spent three months at a ranch about 14 miles northwest of Tucson.]

  Cortaro, Arizona

  [12 January 1942]

  Dear Mom—

  Well settled at last; “Sahuaro Vista Desert Ranch—Cortaro, Ariz.” is the new address. I left Ross in Yuma Saturday, after calling here to be sure of reservation, and got to Tucson that nite. The rates here, all over Arizona are much higher than before, because of war in Calif., and because Calif. weather is a bit cold. Mrs Adams, the proprietress here, told me her rates were higher and that I might stay at $90 a month because she had already quoted this rate. I think it is good because Ross is paying $40 per on a just regular “farm” in Yuma for room and board, and here they have horses etc. and the land is much nicer, Yuma being poor, and just dirty desert, while here they have plenty of giant cactus and mesquite etc. It looks like it’s going to be wonderful. [...]

  And lest I forget—please get me another birth certificate whenever it is convenient (no hurry) and send it out, as I had trouble in Panama and L.A. landing without it. I suppose I should always carry it when I travel.

  And I haven’t time now to tell you about it, but Brad Brown showed me a wonderful time in Hollywood—had many plans for this (past) weekend, but I thot I should get started for Arizona.

  I haven’t seen much here—it is compairtively quiet as there are only two guests now, but soon there will be 18!, and I’ll probably get some mail from you in Tucson today, so I’ll stop now as we’re going very soon (it’s about 14 miles).

  And say, if you haven’t seen H.M. Pullham Esq. don’t miss it. I saw it in Tucson Saturday nite. It is wonderful, Rob’t Young is superb and Hedy Lamarr is extremely good too. I have not really been extremely lonely since I left, but after that I just felt lost. I can see where the book must have been very good—

  Lots of love

  Bill

  $90 a month: about $1260 today. ($1 in 1942 = $14.00 in 2013.)

  Yuma: on the Arizona–California border.

  Brad Brown: unidentified.

  H.M. Pullham Esq.: Pulham, 1940 film directed by King Vidor (based on a novel by John P. Marquand) about a stuffy Bostonian businessman who livens up his dull life with a fling.

  To Edith Gaddis

  Cortaro, Arizona

  [17 January 1942]

  Dear Mom—

  [...] Well everything is coming along fine out here. I’ve been riding every day for two or three or four hours and it is wonderful.

  However I can see where I made a sad mistake. I did as I have been waiting to do since I left, and for my Christmas present bought a handsome pair of boots for $19. They are good looking, but no inlay except around the top. At any rate I was well pleased until I started riding in them, and altho I do really like them—they fascinate me—this land is so rough, and what with riding through greasewood and cactus etc they now by the end of the week are getting pretty scratched up. Every time I pass a bush or cactus that scratches them I feel like it was tearing my own flesh!

  They are not flashy: just black with green and yellow stitching and a little inlay around the top. If only I had gotten a cheaper pair to wear riding and bought a good pair to wear around and home. They had a beautiful pair for $30—all inlay etc. However these are good ones—lined and slightly padded and very well made, and I suppose it was a good investment. As a last resort please send my old ones out—I’ll have them re-heeled and they’ll do for rough country. And also my canteen—it’s hanging in the lodge just to the right of the garage door. It will be perfect for these long hot rides.

  I have gotten a pair of blue jeans ($1.39) and a flannel shirt (98¢) for this riding—expect to get another pair of jeans today—and later perhaps a pair of “frontier pants” and a gabardine shirt. No hat as yet as they do seem sort of “dudey”—but I can see that it too will become almost a necessity before too long.

  As for wanting anything else—well there are things down here that make me froth just to look at them!—belts such as I never dreamed of—rings—beautiful silver and leather work—but I figure I don’t need any of it now and will let it go until I’ve been around a bit more and seen more of these things that I’ve always known must exist somewhere!

  My pictures turned out quite well on the trip ’round. I’m sending them under separate cover with the negatives in case you want to see them and you may keep them so I won’t lose them. They most all turned out—some taken in Panama Bay of sunsets which is restricted and I almost lost every thing—and say I don’t know whether or not I told you about what happened at Norfolk—I was caught taking pictures on the pier—trailed all over town by two Naval Intelligence men and finally “relieved” of any film. They said they would develop it and send me any pictures they approved—so if any thing comes to me there from them that resembles photographs please take a look and send them on—there may be some good shots. [...]

  I can’t think of any thing I’d want from Saks—perhaps a tux but that will be a long time—I really don’t know what they handle—so why don’t you get yourself something and then later things will straighten out. There just isn’t much in the east that I can think of wanting—except clothes when I return—these wallets and belts and rings and other silver and leather creations out here are just things I have always dreamt of.

  Well everything’s fine—just riding—rocking back and forth (what I mean rocking) in these saddles. It’s quite warm tho the natives comment on the “chilliness!” Tell Gram I’ll write and tell her all about Brad and thank her for her letter.

  Love

  Bill

/>   Gram: aka Granga, WG’s maternal grandmother, Ida Williams Way (see headnote to 16 November 1943).

  To Edith Gaddis

  Cortaro, Arizona

  [26 January 1942]

  Dear Mother—

  I received both your letters Saturday and the box that evening; thanks so much for the check (I paid it down on my “rent”), and the box—I still get a kick out of opening packages and presents!

  And then as you say this slightly ironic setup—about my father. But I suppose we shall do just what might be expected, and wait . . . things always do take care of them selves, and, as “most of our troubles never happen,” by the same token plans and worries often make an unexpected outcome that much harder to meet. As you said it has not been a great emotional problem for me, tho it does seem queer; you see I still feel a little like I must have when I said “I have no father; I never had a father!,” and since things have been as they have, I have never really missed one—honestly—and only now does it seem queer to me. All I know of fathers I have seen in other families, and in reading, and somehow thru the deep realization I have gained of their importance; of father-and-son relations; and families: not just petty little groups, but generations—a name and honour and all that goes with it—this feeling that I have gained from other channels without ever having missed its actual presence: somehow these are the only ties I feel I have with him. You understand, not so much personal feelings, but the sort of feeling that I feel must exist between the father and son of a family as fine and as noble as I feel the name of Gaddis to represent; something far above such stuff as the Good Will Hour thrives on.

  The package contained a very handsome pigskin wallet—a very fine gift, and I shall write him and thank him.

  I suppose all we can do is wait, and not hope but know that it will all turn out perfectly. And while I realize that perhaps it is an affair between father and son, and I shall try to carry my end thru as a gentleman would, for apparently now I have reached the place where I am old enough to think for myself and act accordingly, and be expected to carry things thru like a man, at any rate Mother, if there is any part of this that you want me to do “your way,” or any advice you wish to give me on any part of it, please do so, and rest assured that I will do as you wish, for far from making a mess of things or being unfair to me at any point, you have done a wonderful job of the whole thing, and people who have never seen you or have just met you to whom I speak of you telling me that you must be a very wonderful woman only substantiate my feelings and make me realize all the more how much I owe not only a wonderful mother but a wonderful person as well for everything good I have and am today, or ever will be—

  Love

  Bill

  Good Will Hour: a radio advice program (1937–45) hosted by John J. Anthony.

  To Edith Gaddis

  Cortaro, Arizona

  [19 February 1942]

  Dear Mother—

  Everything out here is fine as per usual and after receiving your letter and request for a picture I got my roll developed and here’s one of me on “Johnny”—the wildest jumpiest horse here; I ride him daily and he’s slowly getting broken in—but today he ran off with me and I came through still on top this time but a slight rip on my head from a passing tree limb. However he’s a good horse and we’re getting along better all the time. It is a poor picture but at least shows I’m still alive and able to get around.

  And say—about those pictures I sent of my West Portal trip—was the negative roll with them? I don’t know what happened—the manila envelop they were in must have broken.

  I don’t know about registering—but some time if you see George (Castor) or Arvid you might ask them.

  We made a trip to Nogales (Mexico) Saturday and had a fine time. They had buckskin jackets there for $10—one of the fellows got one—but I’m in too deep all ready—and what with the rodeo coming up. I do want to get started and work and pretty soon am going to give this edima an ultimatum. I’ve got an offer of a job down near Elgin near the border where a fellow’s running cattle and sort of needs a helper. Would only be for board and I’d have to bring bed-roll and perhaps saddle—but experience is the thing and I guess I’d get it there.

  Well we’ll see I suppose—but I do want to get going—

  Love

  Bill

  West Portal: the name of the ship WG took through the Panama Canal.

  George (Castor) or Arvid: Castor, like Arvid Friberg, was a Farmingdale High School friend. edima: i.e., edema, an abnormal accumulation of fluid beneath the skin or in a body cavity.

  WG in Arizona, 1942

  To Edith Gaddis

  Cortaro, Arizona

  [23 March 1942]

  Dear Mom—

  Things are still in a sort of state of waiting; I was going to Yuma about the middle of last week but Mrs. Adams talked me out of it—but a couple of days ago I got a letter from Ross in Yuma asking me to drop down and see him.

  And so here’s how it stands: you see the old gal who runs this place—Mrs Adams—is a little—well—eccentric—putting it mildly. At any rate there haven’t been any guests here for a while, and no wrangler, so I’ve been doing part time work—taking care of horses—for $1 a day off my board. Now she’s starting things rolling again (she says) and there’s a possibility of my getting a job—I don’t know. If it’s not working the horses I won’t take it. She’s made me propositions now and again but she seems to be given to—well—fabricating etc etc. and I can’t keep up with her. And so if I should get a job here I’ll stay for a while—until I clear up the albumin in the urine. Otherwise down to Yuma to see Ross, and then I’d like to go out to L.A. just to see how things are looking. You see the edima is about gone—the doctor thinks it is negligible; I haven’t had swelling in the ankles for the last month or two as the boots are tight and keep it out—just the upper legs—but the doc thinks that’s cleared up. He says I can work but doesn’t advise the sea until I clear up this albumin condition.

  And then just to complicate things an old seaman is working here—gardening—and we get together and he really can tell me the stories. He says he doesn’t think that there is so much danger—he thinks one has a good chance. Then for further complication a pretty brunette is staying over at the “Picture Rocks” Ranch a little ways away. Her name is Petrillo—you know the Petrillos in the song writing and A.S.C.A.P etc—that’s her—I ride over and see her every so often—gee not like that Ford—this saddle only seats one!

  I finally did get a very handsome silver ring—it is solid silver and in the form of a little saddle—as if your finger were the horse’s back you put the saddle on it—like this. [drawing] The silver is all engraved and right in the top of the horse is a little blue turquoise; it is handsome.

  Well that’s about the size of it now—have been reading H.M. Stanley’s auto biography—it’s wonderful (at present he is going to sea!)

  Love

  Bill

  the Petrillos: James Petrillo (1892–1984) was president of the American Federation of Musicians (1940–58) and would have dealt with the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers.

  H.M. Stanley’s auto biography: Sir Henry Morton Stanley (1841–1904), explorer in Africa; his Autobiography was posthumously published in 1909.

  To Edith Gaddis

  Rancho de los Caballos

  Yuma Valley, Arizona

  Tuesday [31 March 1942]

  Dear Mom—

  Well I got started at last—hitch hiked over here yesterday in six hours and am seeing Ross who sends his best.

  It is certainly hot here out on the desert, and I think I’ll get started for L.A. soon—perhaps this afternoon—for I think I can get a ride as far as El Centro. I just want to go out to the coast to see how things are.

  For the last two or three or four weeks I’d been working at S—V—Ranch for Mrs Adams with horses and dudes—$1 off per day—and so when paid up $28 to leave on. That will be plenty to get m
e to the coast and back—and I’ll be back in Tucson soon I’m sure—unless something good should turn up in L.A.

  Love

  Bill

  To Edith Gaddis

  The Rosslyn Hotels

  111 West Fifth Street

  Los Angeles, California

  [early April 1942]

  Dear Mom—

  Well it took me over 500 miles of hitch hiking—but now you may set your mind completely at rest; I went down to San Pedro today—and the U.S. Maritime Commission—and the sea seems at least post poned for a while—next summer perhaps. But I had to come out and settle it for myself. I got out to San Diego and on the ride up from there saw miles of the Pacific, so I guess I’m cured for a while.

  I have been here since last evening, when I arrived, and after this second good look at L.A. plan to start back in the morning.

  I had a haircut this morning (first in 3 months!!) and the barber whom I got to know here in January said that I looked better. You should have seen the hair tho—it was really long—what I mean—and curly too!

  Well should be back at the Ranch by the weekend unless something intruguing intervenes!

  Love

  Bill

  To Edith Gaddis

  Cortaro, Arizona