Roma and Fred #3

Comments.

Roma and Fred are so smitten with each other. He’s already given her a friendship ring and a thimble (a Freudian condom? invitation to domesticity?), and he talks about a pillow she may be planning to make for him. She wants to share some personal worries with him, which he is keen to hear, and she wonders about the meaning of life. He, too, alludes to unspecified worries that trouble him. It appears that Mr. B. and others are good for a good time, but in Fred she sees something more permanent. She appreciates his standing in the community, he’s clearly a “keeper.” They begin to grapple with lust and reputation, juxtaposed with the holy purity of their love (“Roma dear, in closing I would breathe upon you the sweetest benediction of Heaven; I would commend you to the keeping of the Guardian of the pure and just: I would place upon your life the warm kiss of a pure and holy love.”)

She sees being a music teacher as more socially acceptable, but she so enjoys the independence and travel in selling books, and the money is better. Money is an issue for both of them, and they got into it jokingly in an earlier letter with a fake $10,000 “check” but now she needs real money, soon, to pay for her insurance as sales income takes a while to be realized. Mr. B. has offered to give her anything she needs but she doesn’t want to be beholden to him and instead asks Fred for a loan. Roma continues to enjoy the hospitality practices of hotels in the towns she visits.

[Delaware, Ohio, 5 PM, June 16, 1915. Envelope from The Allen, Delaware, Ohio. Inside is a breakfast menu with “Greeting – R.B.M. & L.M.H.” written on the bottom, and on the reverse side “Now suffer!!!? F.E.B. (F. & B.?)” in shaky handwriting.]

THE ALLEN

DELAWARE, OHIO

BREAKFAST

_______

Fruit

_______

Grape Nuts

Shredded Wheat

Corn Flakes

Puffed Wheat

Rolled Oats

Cream of Wheat

_______

Bacon Ham Liver

Eggs as Ordered

Potatoes

Toast Cakes

_______

Coffee Tea Milk

_______

Breakfast – 6:00 to 8:00

Luncheon – 11:30 to 1:30

Dinner—6:00 to 8:00

[Marion Ohio, 10 PM, June 17, 1915]

My “bestest” friend:

You don’t know how happy I was to get your letter tonight. I was hoping for one, but knew I did not deserve it. However, to show you how good my intentions have been, I am purposely writing on paper creased, which I have carried in my purse all day, thinking I might find a quiet nook in which I might pen a few lines. I am so anxious to thank you for the beautiful flowers. They came just in time. Miss Hopper and yours “faitfully” [sic] was just about to leave on the six o’clock car for Delaware. We wore the flowers on our light suits and it made us look really dressed up. Can’t flowers do wonders? We truly both appreciated them.

Mr. Huntsberger met us in Delaware at seven. We at once found a room and spent the rest of the evening in enjoying a beautiful band concert. At ten o’clock Mr. B. came on the electric. The next morning at nine we wended our way to Gray Chapel and saw one hundred and sixty-nine dignified seniors march in. The whole affair was very impressive. At noon we all left for Marion, and promptly at 2:30 found ourselves at the “Alhambra” Witnessing, “Forty-five Minutes from Broadway.” It was truly good, and the players are not to be compared with the work done Saturday last. The boys went to supper with us and we all had a pleasant evening. Mr. Bower left at six this morning. He is a dear, dear man, and I like him, but there is something that makes me feel sad. Some day soon I am going to write you a real sentimental letter.

I can’t tell you how much I like the clippings you send with your messages. I am going to the office with Mrs. Herbig and she says I must say “goodnight.”

I so much wish you were here tonight for there are some things I should like to talk to you about. I really feel I have one true friend, and I hope you honor me by feeling the same way.

Lovingly,

Roma

June 17, 1915

[June 18, 1915]

My Dearest Roma Belle;

Does that sound too familiar? I hope not. Your “bestest” friend received his letter on the afternoon mail and I assure you it made him feel quite happy. I was really expecting to hear from you earlier in the week, however, I am allowing your trip to Delaware to serve as an explanation of the apparent delay. I wish I could have accepted your kind invitation to go to Delaware with you. I am glad you enjoyed your visit there. I am pleased to know that the flowers came “just in time” and that you looked “dressed up” in them. Your sharing them with Miss Hopper meets with my hearty approval. This kind act on your part is a positive manifestation of your generosity and beautifully displays your sweet character. As for me I am experiencing the joy that comes to one from rendering a service, even tho that be small.

You write, that there is something that makes you feel sad—pray, tell me what it is—perhaps, I can help you, dearest; To quote “Some day soon I am going to write you a real sentimental letter.” I have not consulted the dictionary to see just what that underscored word means, but whatever that may be, let that letter come poste haste; it will surely receive my earnest attention. Now, just when may I expect it?

In your closing paragraph you express the wish that I were there to-night and that there are some things that you would like to talk to me about—I hasten to say that that wish is reciprocated. O, what wouldn’t I give to spend another triple holiday with you, beginning this very night! To commune with you is to taste of eartho’ [sic] fairest joys. You do me honor when you call me ‘friend’. My contact with you has stirred me as I have never been stirred. I like everything you say, I like everything you do—the truth is, I just like you all over.

Pleasant thoughts of you come more rapidly than I can write them. I want to again express an appreciation of your friend (may I say my friend too?) and coworker, Miss Hopper; her angelic disposition is worthy of imitation and I could enumerate many points that are sure indices of a beautiful character.

By the way, speaking of band concerts, one will be given Sunday night at Millbrook Park Casino and I want this to be your invitation to come down and we will “take it in.” “Are you game?”

I shall look forward with great anticipation to that—letter. “Do you get me.” Pardon the slang but it is so expressive at times.

Please remember me to any inquiring friends.

Lovingly,

F.B.W.

[June 18, 1915]

My Dearest Roma Belle;

You write, that there is something that makes you feel sad—pray, tell me what it is—perhaps, I can help you, dearest; To quote “Some day soon I am going to write you a real sentimental letter.” I have not consulted the dictionary to see just what that underscored word means, but whatever that may be, let that letter come post haste; it will surely receive my earnest attention. Now, just when may I expect it?

By the way, speaking of band concerts, one will be given Sunday night at Millbrook Park Casino and I want this to be your invitation to come down and we will “take it in.” “Are you game?”

I shall look forward with great anticipation to that—letter. “Do you get me.” Pardon the slang but it is so expressive at times.

Please remember me to any inquiring friends.

Lovingly, F.B.W.

Portsmouth, Ohio.
June eighteen, Nineteen fifteen.

My dearest Roma,

I have carried your sweet letter in my pocket all day hoping for a good chance to pen a reply, but, my dear girl, I have been on the “jump” this entire day and now at 8:30 P.M. I have some free time. Dear, the last letter I received, apparently, was written Saturday, but did not reach me until Tuesday morning. I do not know where it was delayed. As your letter was sent to convey love and trust so do I write to return love and trust in complete abundance. I like that word trust. It was indeed dear of Mrs. Todd to call you up on the phone. You know I think the Todds are grand people and I’m sure Mrs. T. is fond of you. Sweetheart, my work is holding me so close, that I cannot safely plan to get away for a definite date. I don’t like this too close application and its getting on my nerves. This has been another bad week for me. I dread to see night come for it does not mean rest for me. You do not know how I dislike to mention anything but what is pleasant to you. Pet, the thimble I sent you was just a little material expression of my love for you. I jokingly mentioned the pillow in my letter. Dear, I want the pillow. Sweetheart dear, the thimble might be suggestive of a number of things. I could comment at considerable length. Dear since I received the beautiful picture the thought came to me what business I had to fall in love with a girl of so many talents—but, sweetheart, I feel in love with you before I knew you were so gifted—your sweetness captivated me, and love holds me to you with the grip of a strong vise. Love, you said I was my own boss—that is only a half truth —I wish it were fully true—then I could say yes to any date you would suggest. Dear, it is quite a while since I saw you—I am wondering if my Roma is as sweet as she was when I last saw her.

Dear Roma, I was both puzzled and amused at the concluding paragraph of your letter. You used the words “loan”, “coohoots”, “for keeps” and “salary” and believe me, they brought out a mixture of smiles and frowns, happily, the former predominating. You reached your climax when you said, “How would you like to get half of my salary”? Sweetheart, I’ll ask you to answer that for me for I’m sure I can’t. There is one thing I do know—I would like to have not half but all of you.

I wish I were with you tonight; I have so much to tell you. Dear you affect everything I think, say and do. For the first time I have found out for myself that love is the greatest thing in the world. Heretofore, I have heard it and read it, but now I know it.

Roma dear, in closing I would breathe upon you the sweetest benediction of Heaven; I would commend you to the keeping of the Guardian of the pure and just: I would place upon your life the warm kiss of a pure and holy love.

Yours in love, Fred.

P.S. Excepting the color of the hair, the lilac girl is a dead ringer for you. Did you get it?
F.

[Date ???]

My dearest and sweetest;

You will notice I have used the superlative in my salutation—but, don’t you know when a fellow likes a girl real well—say, as well as I like you, even superlatives fail to convey the full measure of l_____ he feels for that one. Well, I arrived home in due time after a pleasant visit, the entire distance, with our friend Mr. R.

My visit with you stands as the important and happy event of this history making year 1915. My! how I did hate to leave —the sacredness of Sunday’s eventide, the balminess of the air, and your sweet and charming personality, all bid me stay and this supported by my own strong desire made the parting all too hard.

I have enjoyed three good meals to-day prepared by my good Aunt Mary. She seemed to be glad I had returned. I found plenty of work waiting here for me. I don’t find it easy to adjust myself to the common workaday duties, after a week filled with so many delights. The plant had a good run while I was away. I had a short chat with Mr. B. this morning. He expressed a desire to come up. Tuesday’s parcels [sic] post will bring you a remembrance from the florist—Miss Herrno, by the way, Mrs. Hoobler’s cousin. I wanted you to have it Sunday. I trust this delay along with any other omissions, will be overlooked.

I am enclosing one of the bank pencils which I trust you will find useful.

Kindly remember me to Mr. and Mrs. Herbig not forgetting Edwin, Jr., also tell them I very much enjoyed the party. I feel that Miss Hooper has not only enlarged my circle of friendship but also very much enriched it. And now you, dear heart, let me close this “night letter” with a fond good night and earnest wish that the sun of prosperity will shine upon you and bring you a rich and abundant harvest.

With loving regard, F.B.W.

Miss R.B. Matteson,
Marion, Ohio
Greenwood S. 232.

[Fostoria, Ohio, 10:30 AM, June 22, 1915. Written on hotel stationary: The Chittenden European, The Leading Hotel in the City, Absolutely Fire Proof, Nicholas A. Court, Manager, Columbus, O.]

Dear Mr. Winter:

First of all I want to ask you to forgive me for using this paper, but we have just moved to Fostoria, and it is all I am able to lay hands on. I have not felt equal to unpacking yet.
This is a beautiful Sunday morning. Lena and Tessa May have gone to the Presbyterian Church, while yours truly, in her lonesomeness, is writing to you.

We have a beautiful large front room with three large windows, and an out or rather front door entrance. Our “boarding place” is grand. It has not the style that Mrs. Templeton’s has, but her only thot is to cater to us.

Just now, from somewhere, are wafted strains of Schubert’s Serenade , on the flute. It makes me have such a lonesome feeling. You know I told you I was going to write a sentimental letter, and you want to look out, I feel it coming.

I have just been reading some of your letters, and they are so beautiful. Dear, do you really and truly believe all those lovely and beautiful things you say about me? I don’t see how you can think them, but how I should like to have you be sincere.

I can see how a beautiful sweet girl could be the choicest morsel on earth, but somehow it does not seem as tho anyone could think that much of me. Yet, while I covet it more than anything else on earth, I should hate to have anyone think that much of me, and not be able to give my whole self in return. When a man asks, and begs a woman to go and get married, he must think a lot of her, don’t you think? Sometimes, I wonder if I am standing in my own shadow? But oh, if a man should ever get tired of me, or cross, I don’t believe I could ever stand it. I know I have a sensitive and fine disposition, but I guess I prefer that to a course one. I most emphatically would not admire a man to agree with me on everything, but he could love me and disagree at the same time. Wouldn’t that be sweet?

Monday 7 P.M.
The concord of sweet sounds coming from all directions yesterday got the best of me, and I was compelled to put my letter away, expecting to finish it later in the day, but opportunity did not afford itself, so I am going to finish it now while Lena is out.
(Will you please excuse me if I finish this on different paper?)

Today I was fortunate in getting two letters, one from you, and one from Mr. Bowers.
You asked me what made me sad? I can’t tell. For weeks I have such a funny feeling. To me life means so much, and what am I doing to make it better? Just simply living from day to day. Then too, you and Mr. Bower have meant so much to me. You are both such grand young men, and have been so kind and good to me. There is something so sweet, in true genuine friendship, yet it brings sadness, for soon I will be far away, and while per chance a picture, a dream, a tune may recall a few pleasant memories. Yet, they will only be memories.

I always look forward with such pleasure to your letters, while it is what is in your own hand writing that gives me the greatest pleasure, yet the seal says so much, also the clippings. You always send such pretty things. I believe in a literary line our[inserted sideways over “I”] tastes run in the same channel. There is one on friendship I should like to repeat.

There is something in your friendship,
That I know will stand the test—
Giving me a sense of safety, of security and rest,
Friend of mine, my whole life thru,
I’ll be glad that I found you.

Dear, I do honor you to call you friend, and if you will accept me as your honest true friend, you will never be disappointed. The one thing that worries me, is, because I let you hold me so close. There, you have the whole thing. There is so much I don’t know, I don’t understand, but I want to be a real true woman. I have wondered, if I never saw[written over] see you again, what would you think? I believe if you had not told me you loved me, and that you never had had an impure thot with me, I could not stand it. There is no use trying to explain. I can’t make you understand. What gets me is, that which is born of love and affection, is the same time lust and shame. I don’t suppose if you were here I could talk to you because I don’t know how to express my feelings. Tonight I am suffering with a severe headache, so I don’t know whether I would be very good company or not, but I do believe I could stand a little petting. Who wants to pet me? My, but this is a cheerful letter. Really it is not pessimistic, but sentimental. (Look them both up.)

Now I am going to talk about something cheerful. I have been trying to decide which one I trusted and believed in the most, you or Mr. Bower, and which one was my truest friend. You see this is a question which one I trust more rather than visa versa.

However, because I have decided on you, please do not let it reflect on Mr. Bower, for I believe he would do anything for me within his power, maybe that is why I do not care to be under obligations to him.

You see its this way. My insurance is due this month and I am as near broke, as I dare be, roaming around the country. If I write home for money, my mother and brothers would insist upon my coming home, and I don’t want to. I am crazy about this work, and there is good money in it. The first week I was in this work I made nearly sixty dollars, but did not get it all until the works were all delivered which was about a month from the time I took the orders. However, our expenses average about eight dollars a week, and during the month of April, I experienced the first real sickness I have had since I was one year old, namely, appendicitis. You can imagine what I made and what I spent that month. Of course my folks know nothing about that, for there was no use worrying them unless it was necessary. In Portsmouth I just about came out even, and in Marion twelve dollars in the hold. If the orders I have for July go thru I will be to the good, but just now that does not help me.

I need thirty dollars and I want you to loan it to me. No one need know it but you and me. I won’t give you my “note” for that would not be worth anything, but I will give you my word. I know you turned one little girl down which was “perfectly proper”, but you see I am a big girl, and this is strictly business. Don’t you dare breath [sic] a word of this to Mr. Bowers, because he asked me once if I ever needed help if I would come to him. I never thot I would, but since I do, I feel more free to come to you. I should have tended to this sooner, but really forgot it, and I should hate to drop my insurance now.

Do you think I am crazy for staying in this work? I know a girl who banked one thousand dollars last year over her expenses. Of course the times were better, but if other people can, I can. You know what the work is, the kind of people I am associated with, the kind of places we stop at etc. Now don’t you think it all right? I care a great deal for your opinion, but I want you to say yes. Some way, I have no desire to go to teaching again. You can be a lady in this just as much as anything, and so far we have never been mistaken for anything else. Please “elucidate.”

How would you like to attend a house party with Mr. Lemon, Lena May, Roma Belle and some others, say, the middle of August? “E Pluribus Unum (?).”

Lena May has just returned so I must close. She sends her regards and I, my love. Have you any more of those pencils? Lena needs one to remember you by.

Roma
326 N. Main – Fostoria, O.
June twenty-first.

June eighteen, Nineteen fifteen.

My dearest Roma,

I have carried your sweet letter in my pocket all day hoping for a good chance to pen a reply, but, my dear girl, I have been on the “jump” this entire day and now at 8:30 P.M. I have some free time. Dear, the last letter I received, apparently, was written Saturday, but did not reach me until Tuesday morning. I do not know where it was delayed. As your letter was sent to convey love and trust so do I write to return love and trust in complete abundance. I like that word trust. It was indeed dear of Mrs. Todd to call you up on the phone. You know I think the Todds are grand people and I’m sure Mrs. T. is fond of you. Sweetheart, my work is holding me so close, that I cannot safely plan to get away for a definite date. I don’t like this too close application and its getting on my nerves. This has been another bad week for me. I dread to see night come for it does not mean rest for me. You do not know how I dislike to mention anything but what is pleasant to you. Pet, the thimble I sent you was just a little material expression of my love for you. I jokingly mentioned the pillow in my letter. Dear, I want the pillow. Sweetheart dear, the thimble might be suggestive of a number of things. I could comment at considerable length. Dear since I received the beautiful picture the thought came to me what business I had to fall in love with a girl of so many talents—but, sweetheart, I feel in love with you before I knew you were so gifted—your sweetness captivated me, and love holds me to you with the grip of a strong vise. Love, you said I was my own boss—that is only a half truth—I wish it were fully true—then I could say yes to any date you would suggest. Dear, it is quite a while since I saw you—I am wondering if my Roma is as sweet as she was when I last saw her.

Dear Roma, I was both puzzled and amused at the concluding paragraph of your letter. You used the words “loan”, “coohoots”, “for keeps” and “salary” and believe me, they brought out a mixture of smiles and frowns, happily, the former predominating. You reached your climax when you said, “How would you like to get half of my salary”? Sweetheart, I’ll ask you to answer that for me for I’m sure I can’t. there is one thing I do know—I would like to have not half but all of you.

Yours in love,

Fred.

P.S. Excepting the color of the hair, the lilac girl is a dead ringer for you. Did you get it?

???

My dearest and sweetest;

My visit with you stands as the important and happy event of this history making year 1915. My! how I did hate to leave—the sacredness of Sunday’s eventide, the balminess of the air, and your sweet and charming personality, all bid me stay and this supported by my own strong desire made the parting all too hard.

I have enjoyed three good meals to-day prepared by my good Aunt Mary. She seemed to be glad I had returned. I found plenty of work waiting here for me. I don’t find it easy to adjust myself to the common workaday duties, after a week filled with so many delights. The plant had a good run while I was away. I had a short chat with Mr. B. this morning. He expressed a desire to come up. Tuesday’s parcel post will bring you a remembrance from the florist—Miss Herrno, by the way, Mrs. Hoobler’s cousin. I wanted you to have it Sunday. I trust this delay along with any other omissions, will be overlooked.

I am enclosing one of the bank pencils which I trust you will find useful.

With loving regard

F.B.W.

Miss R.B. Matteson,

Marion, Ohio

Greenwood S. 232.

[Fostoria, Ohio, 10:30 AM, June 22, 1915. Written on hotel stationary: The Chittenden European, The Leading Hotel in the City, Absolutely Fire Proof, Nicholas A. Court, Manager, Columbus, O.]

Dear Mr. Winter:

First of all I want to ask you to forgive me for using this paper, but we have just moved to Fostoria, and it is all I am able to lay hands on. I have not felt equal to unpacking yet.

This is a beautiful Sunday morning. Lena and Tessa May have gone to the Presbyterian Church, while yours truly, in her lonesomeness, is writing to you.

Just now, from somewhere, are wafted strains of Schubert’s Serenade, on the flute. It makes me have such a lonesome feeling. You know I told you I was going to write a sentimental letter, and you want to look out, I feel it coming.

I can see how a beautiful sweet girl could be the[written above the line] choicest morsel on earth, but somehow it does not seem as tho anyone could think that much of me. Yet, while I covet it more than anything else on earth, yet[crossed out] I should hate to have anyone think that much of me, and not be able to give my whole self in return. When a man asks, and begs a woman to go and get married, he must think a lot of her, don’t you think? Sometimes, I wonder if I am standing in my own shadow? But oh, if a man should ever get tired of me, or cross, I don’t believe I could ever stand it. I know I have a sensitive and fine disposition, but I guess I prefer that to a course one. I most emphatically would not admire a man to agree with me on everything, but he could love me and disagree at the same time. Wouldn’t that be sweet?

Monday 7 P.M.

The concord of sweet sounds coming from all directions yesterday got the best of me, and I was compelled to put my letter away, expecting to finish it later in the day, but opportunity did not afford itself, so I am going to finish it now while Lena is out.

(Will you please excuse me if I finish this on different paper?)

Today I was fortunate in getting two letters, one from you, and one from Mr. Bowers.

You asked me what made me sad? I can’t tell. For weeks I have such a funny feeling. To me life means so much, and what am I doing to make it better? Just simply living from day to day. Then too, you and Mr. Bower have meant so much to me. You are both such grand young men, and have been so kind and good to me. There is something so sweet, in true genuine friendship, yet it brings sadness, for soon I will be far away, and while per chance a picture, a dream, a tune may recall a few pleasant memories. Yet, they will only be memories.

There is something in your friendship,

That I know will stand the test—

Giving me a sense of safety, of security and rest,

Friend of mine, my whole life thru,

I’ll be glad that I found you.

Dear, I do honor you to call you friend, and if you will accept me as your honest true friend, you will never be disappointed. The one thing that worries me, is, because I let you hold me so close. There, you have the whole thing. There is so much I don’t know, I don’t understand, but I want to be a real true woman. I have wondered, if I never see you again, what would you think? I believe if you had not told me you loved me, and that you never had had an impure thot with me, I could not stand it. There is no use trying to explain. I can’t make you understand. What gets me is, that which is born of love and affection, is the same time lust and shame. I don’t suppose if you were here I could talk to you because I don’t know how to express my feelings. Tonight I am suffering with a severe headache, so I don’t know whether I would be very good company or not, but I do believe I could stand a little petting. Who wants to pet me? My, but this is a cheerful letter. Really it is not pessimistic, but sentimental. (Look them both up.)

You see its this way. My insurance is due this month and I am as near broke, as I dare be, roaming around the country. If I write home for money, my mother and brothers would insist upon my coming home, and I don’t want to. I am crazy about this work, and there is good money in it. The first week I was in this work I made nearly sixty dollars, but did not get it all until the works were all delivered which was about a month from the time I took the orders. However, our expenses average about eight dollars a week, and during the month of April, I experienced the first real sickness I have had since I was one year old, namely, appendicitis. You can imagine what I made and what I spent that month. Of course my folks know nothing about that, for there was no use worrying them unless it was necessary. In Portsmouth I just about came out even, and in Marion twelve dollars in the hold. If the orders I have for July go thru I will be to the good, but just now that does not help me.

How would you like to attend a house party with Mr. Lemon, Lena May, Roma Belle and some others, say, the middle of August? “E Pluribus Unum (?).”

Lena May has just returned so I must close. She sends her regards and I, my love. Have you any more of those pencils? Lena needs one to remember you by.

Roma 326 N. Main – Fostoria, O.

June twenty-first.

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