Their handwriting.
Roma’s first letter and the accompanying envelope from The Green Joyce Company Lounge in Columbus. Roma’s own stationary was generally the half-page size.
Fred’s letters were all written on full size writing paper, in the same even cursive. His letters were not all dated and not all in the mailing envelope, so figuring out the order of letters is a challenge, often requiring searches for clues in the content, e.g., place names, references to previous letters.
Comments on the letters that follow
These are clearly love letters. Fred seems to allude to a possible marriage proposal coming, but as usual, he is opaque and noncommittal. Fred struggles with being a “weak” person, a result of his need for caution in navigating his work, again, with the usual opaqueness. He acknowledges the 15-year gap in their ages and knows it could be an issue but he has not yet thought much about it.
Roma confesses to have eaten too many asparagus and politely excuses herself from going into details of the effect this indulgence had on her. In evaluating possible postings, Roma shows her interest in earning as much money as she can, comparing stories of how much this or that person made in this or that market. She is hoping to be stationed in West Virginia where she will be closer to Portsmouth, but alas, she is sent to Bucyrus, Ohio. Roma questions her ability to be a good mother “just because I think I am so smart.”
To my most precious Roma;
Yes, I did get it finally, didn’t I? That frequent use of the initials wasn’t “good form” and I think it is only another manifestation of the tendency of our age to make short cuts and resort to abbreviations, being possessed with the idea that we thereby save time. I am glad you found time to answer my note so promptly.
Your comment on the enclosure is sane, sensible, fair and timely. The disparity in our ages is a matter of some concern, however, I have as yet given that but little thought.
Procrastination is a “fault” or “sin” of which I have been altogether too guilty. My environment, especially of more recent years, has been such as to produce timidity, the logical outcome of which is a tendency to put off. I am trying in a conservative way to break away from its grip.
I just happened to see that article in the Daily and knew it would be interesting reading. I did not expect you to return it, though I appreciated your underscoring. My dear, perhaps none but a woman, who has had a similar experience can really and fully sympathize with you in the great disappointment that came to you. You are sure one girl that does not need any “gewgaws” to make up for mental deficiency.
You are blessed “with a good mind and perfect body” for which, dearest girl, thank God. These are the foundation upon which rests your beautiful character radiant with those virtues and qualities that make you so sweet and lovable.
That old lie “two can live as cheap as one” is hoary with age. In many instances I know it is costing the unmarried fellows as much if not more than their married brothers, and as for saving—I sometimes think that is a lost “art.”
I appreciated your lucid description of the “dog picture.”
Pet, I cannot account for those “awful” snake dreams. I have heard of men having snakes “but there’s a reason.” But say, if I were a snake and “anything” as choice and tempting as you passed—I’d do just what that snake did, believe me, and oh, how tight I would clasp you. I am sure you would feel it. How kind of you to mention that shirt. If there be anything in signs your ears must be most burned off for I am thinking of you so much of the time.
I was not very well satisfied with the letter I sent you yesterday and which should have reached you this Friday morning. It was written on strange paper, in a strange place with a strange pen. I think I said something about it in the letter. Dear sweetheart, you have made me so happy with your sweet letters, your sweet words, your sweet love. That Xmas dream stands out in bold relief as the choisest [sic] bit of whispering that my ears have ever heard. Sublime indeed are the emotions it arouses. The heart swells and the tenderest chords of my soul seemed to be touched by something akin to the Divine.
My dearest love, for reasons mutually understood I cannot say all that my heart holds—it is almost to the bursting point. Time, not far off, must and will make clear some things that at this date, are dimmed by doubt and uncertainty. I want you to have this before Sunday. I might have sent this special had I an address other than general delivery. You would then have received it Sunday morning.
I think I know a sweet little girl that will get a good auto ride this week end. “Things” down here point that way. I trust this message will reach the dear sweet girl I love so well and find her both well and happy.
With love unmeasured, Fred.
[Cleveland, Ohio, 12:30 AM, July 14, 1915.]
My dearest Fred:
Your two splendid letters reached me today, one this morning, which I should have gotten Saturday, the other one Monday morning. I left a forwarding card to have general delivery sent to 1901-E.69th., but it surely shouldn’t have taken them that long. But I have them, and they made me thrice happy.
Dear, what do you suppose I did tonight? Miss Dake and her mother were invited out for dinner, so I bought a bunch of asparagus and had all I wanted for once. I wish you could have seen me, I—oh I guess I won’t tell.
My manager Mr. Ferris is just grand. If he were not a married man, I am afraid I should try and work Cleveland. I have weeled [wheedled] him into letting me do anything I wanted to so far, I hope the good work continues. He told me this afternoon I could go Thursday morning but where—he would not say. However I think it will be West Virginia. In the fall he wants to take a bunch of us to Columbus and then in the winter Lena May and I are going in Texas. He said this afternoon he was going to send me maybe where one of their workers made over three hundred dollars in May. I will have to look out, some young swain will want to be marrying me for my money (?) That has always been a comforting thot with me, that no one would ever marry me for money, it will be myself alone. However, I am still safe and suppose I will remain so. You notice I said “will” instead of “shall.”
Dear you said, “you read and re-read my letters, but that paragraph containing the sequence of your desires holds me and fixed me fast. Then I read again—and study—and wonder—and say to myself, can it be?” WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. You surely will have to elucidate there.
I had a letter from Lena May this morning. She spoke of receiving the pencil and that she had written to thank you and told you to be sure and make arrangements for the “house party.” Dear wouldn’t that be perfetty [sic] grand? but I am not sure I can go. If I can, it will have to be about the last week of August. She said I simply had to come that no was no answer. I can’t tell you how much I should enjoy [“enjoy” inserted] a week of that kind. Could you go at that time? Don’t make a mistake and say something to Mr. B he must not know.
Dearest, I do not know where I am going, but if it lands me anywhere near Portsmouth, I will wire you, and I may be able to see you Thursday evening “if you haven’t a date.”
The lady who has been doing this work in Portsmouth, I saw yesterday. She averaged fifty seven dollars a week the seven weeks she was there.
There is a lady across the street who has two children who does not deserve any. She yells at them like cattle, and they are real sweet. I suppose I would be a miserable failure with children just because I think I am so smart.
Well, dearest love, I must close, but I am strangely happy and feeling a great deal better.
With my best love, Roma.
Tuesday 7-8 P.M.
[Cleve. & C—railway cancellation? R.P.O. July 15, 1915 TR 35. Picture postcard of the Superior Street Viaduct, Cleveland, Ohio.]
Thursday A.M.
Am leaving at 11:35 for Bucyrus O., and am not one bit pleased. I guess I am disappointed because I am not going to W. Va. Will write tonight.
Gen. Del. Roma
[Bucyrus, Ohio, 10:30 PM, July 15, 1915.]
My dearest Fred:
You don’t know how funny it seems to call you that.
Well dear, I am in Bucyrus, how do you like that? I-t- I did not like the idea at all, when Mr. Ferris told me this morning, but since I am here, I guess it will be all right. It is about a two hours ride to Columbus, so maybe I can go down once in awhile.
Some “rube” from New York, today on the train, was bound he was going to have my name and address. Finally, I looked at him and said, “what would my husband say?” It is needless to say I scored.
I left Cleveland at eleven-thirty-five and arrived in Crest Line at one thirty. I had to wait there until ten minutes to five. Don’t ask me now if I am as sweet as ever?
Dearest, besure [sic] and tell me what you think of the house party at Lena’s. Oh I want to see you and talk with you so much. You old sweetness. I have found out that you can leave Portsmouth at 7:10 A.M. get in Columbus at 10:25 and leave on the Pennsylvania line at 10:45 and get in Bucyrus at 12:45. Can’t you arrange to come a week from Friday and stay until Monday?
In the meantime, I will try and see if I can find another spot like Marion. I probably won’t hear from you for a few days, so I will have to read your old letters over to keep me company, and believe me dearest one, they are good company.
Coming up on the train, I found some things in the Chicago paper which I am enclosing.
With worlds of love, Roma
Gen. Del.
To my little dewdrop:
Yes, I’m just a bit disappointed; it’s late Friday afternoon and no letter from my dear Roma Belle. The card apprising me of your removal to Bucyrus awaited me at lunch time. Wait a minute, I hear the postman, maybe he has that letter. Sure enough, your letter is here, I’ll not write another word till I read it. xxxxx How glad I am that it came, however, I find one fault with it, it’s entirely too short. I much prefer a long one, yes, a very long one from you. By the way, I received your last letter from Cleveland yesterday afternoon (Thursday) in which you said you might be “landed” somewhere near Portsmouth and don’t you know I somehow felt that you would be sent to W. Va. and would come via Portsmouth. I looked for a wire all afternoon but there was “nothing doing.” I even went to the train due here from Columbus at 7:35 P.M. but no R.B. did I see, and not until I received your card at noon to-day could I figure out just what had become of you. I know where Bucyrus is as I have passed through there several times on the train. I hope you will be pleased with your new surroundings and that business will come your way. As to elucidating on a certain paragraph which you quote I’ll leave that for later discussion.
I received Miss Hopper’s letter acknowledging the little pencil and also extending a cordial invitation to the “house party.” I’m sure that would be a great treat, but I am not sure that I shall be able to get away.
I am agreeably surprised to hear of the great success that your lady friend met with here in Portsmouth. All things considered it is most remarkable.
I am glad you enjoyed the asparagus and that you have such a grand man as manager. I also notice, and gladly, too, that you are still “safe”, whatever that may mean.
When you scored on that New York “rube” some one ought to have been there to deliver him one healthy punch. But then, pet, you always score, it seems to me. That wait in Crestline must have been joy. I know where it is, but not what it is, but I have a good guess. Now I will ask you, are you as sweet as you were the last time I saw you? Say, do you know I am thinking of you so tenderly just at this moment? I see you in that green dress—I see the porch swing—I see the shady nooks by the stream at Marion, aye, in continuous panorama I see sweet visions of you. Oh, how I wish I could be with you right now—this Friday evening—and hold you, and caress you, and kiss you and love you. Many indeed are the sweet and fond thoughts I have of you every day. A letter from you means much to me—it makes me happy. I treasure them and joyfully anticipate their coming.
I might go on ad infinitum writing sweet thoughts about you. Aunt Mary has just called me to supper—I will resume when I return. Well, here I am again. How do you like the bill of fare—bacon and eggs, corn on the cob, cream cheese, raspberry jam, apple sauce, bread and butter, fresh blackberries, cake, hot coffee and lemonade.
We have been suffering the tortures of the “damned” for the past week: the temperature reached 95 to-day. When it gets 90 or above I’m “all in.” I am on most friendly terms with the bathroom these days. Matters with me in a business way remain status quo; (whatever that may mean).
That suggested trip to Bucyrus sounds fine. I am considering it. You will hear more definitely in due time. I cannot say more at this writing.
I want to say that the contents of your letters are held in strict and sacred confidence.
With this, my letter and message to you, go my admiration, esteem, respect and tenderest love. May the approaching Sabbath breath [sic] upon you a sweet benediction to further grace those womanly charms you already possess.
Most lovingly,
F.B.W.
P.S. I like the style of your salutation even if it does seem funny to you. F.
I appreciated your enclosures.
QBA 