Comment
They continue to express their love for each other but Fred cannot bring himself to propose marriage. He wants to be able to support a wife and his employment situation does not allow it. He is not willing to discuss details in letters, wanting to see her to talk about these things in person. Roma tells him she could go with Mr. B. or with Fred, and she prefers Fred, but she is impatient with his inability to commit. Mr. B. is ready to go, but Fred dithers. She again references their physical (sexual) relationship and it seems this is not the case with Mr. B. Oh, to know exactly what he means when Fred wonders if Roma would like to be “petted,” “…you know that’s a man’s job. I certainly would try my darndest to make good.” Means?
They arrange to meet in Columbus at big Ohio-Indiana football game and Roma tells him that she must see him alone before then, posed like an ultimatum.
Fred’s membership in the Masons clearly means a lot to him. And speaking of what exactly things mean, here’s a puzzle: “I am asked to give a short talk on ‘pep’ Friday night at the ‘Apple Eat and Snake Dance’ to be held in Second Church. I can’t invite you because it’s for men only.” These and his inability to commit to marriage make me continue to think he is struggling with his homosexuality. Is “pep” code for being able to have an erection?
Fred→Roma
[postmarked Portsmouth, October 25, 1915, sent to Fostoria]
To my dear Roma;
“Love’s a bunch of swaying daisies
Bound around with ribbons blue,
Love’s a peephole into heaven
With you tip-toe looking through,
Love’s a jar of milk and honey
In a fair enchanted clime,
You can drink from it forever
And be thirsty all the time.”
This quotation is so sweet and beautiful and is so suggestive of you, that I am sending it special rather than hold it for an enclosure in a letter. This is Thursday morning and I have had no word since Sunday, the wait seems most awfully long.
Lovingly as ever, Fred.
Fred→Roma
[postmarked October 26, 1915]
To my only sweetheart;
Volume number two doubtless reached you today. This is only a short supplement. Sweetheart dear, you will receive, under separate cover, something, that I think will go well with your new brown suit and hat. Don’t feel too surprised when you get it. I know that some of the little tokens I occasionly [sic] send will seem funny to you. I appreciate what a joke might have been made about the soap.
Dear, this has been a perfect day, reaching its climax in this beautiful, balmy, moonlight evening—an ideal evening for lovers. How I would like to spend it with you. It wouldn’t be a bit of trouble for me to hold, fondle, caress, kiss and love you tonight. That distance of almost two hundred miles is all that holds me back. I am wondering if you would like to be “petted”—you know that is a man’s job. I certainly would try my damdest to make good.
I was again looking over your outline and I know you did some hard digging to compose anything so comprehensive and voluminous. But then you’re a smart girl—didn’t Miss Bishop say so? Dear Roma, I have opened up negotiations again respecting the business proposition, the details of which I gave you when in Bucyrus. I am waiting patiently for an answer—of course I mean a formable [sic] one, for much depends upon that. You said in your last letter that I was a little afraid of being “strung.” Your “slang” amuses me more than a little. Pet, I have not seen the man I was afraid of—I’m not quite so sure about the woman—and about the only thing I am willing to admit being afraid of is a vicious dog. I do not see how you can get such an impression.
Sweetheart, the vision that I have been entertaining is a home—a castle, if you please, though humble it may be with you gracing it with your queenly bearing and with me its lord and master and together we would sway the scepter of power by our mutual love and devotion.
I felt more than proud when I read “I’d be terribly well satisfied to take you with your faults thrown in.” As I should be and insist on being the sole bread-winner I must build and plan wisely and safely. I am sure I don’t want you to get “stung.” Until I met you, I gave but little thought to such things. Dear, I want you to explain this paragraph parenthetically inserted, in your last letter, for it got my goat and got it hard (pardon that awful slang, but I recall that you used a similar expression the Sunday we were walking home from the Christian Science service) “(and dear since everything was all right last week I guess we will have to be convinced against our wishes.)” Does this mean that you wished the outcome had been otherwise? Its [sic] deeper than I can fathom.
Love, I see this supplement is growing too fast so I’ll just pinch it off right here. I have a meeting to attend and it is time to go.
With all love, Fred.
Roma→Fred
[Fostoria, October 26, 1915, 11 PM]
Lover dear:
I mailed you one volume tonight, but when I returned home and found your other dear darling letter, and the little package, I can’t refrain from answering at once. Dear the veil is a beauty. If you aren’t a darling there never was one Dear, your little tokens and thotful and useful gifts are so much appreciated and loved. I speak earnestly now. You must be careful not to spoil me. Not that I am always expecting something for every thing is a pleasant surprise, but dear heart, everything you send and give me is so much more appreciated and enjoyed than if I bought it myself. I can’t explain the difference. I do so much want to do something for you but I don’t have time to take a stitch and I can’t think of anything to buy but cigars and those are not good for you.
Dear heart the paragraph you wish explained is this. You remember when I came I was two weeks late with “my company.” Week before last she was one day early. What I meant by being convinced against our wishes was, that neither of us could believe that anything was wrong, but the fact the next month was so regular and as usual one day before schedule we will have to be convinced that something was wrong. However, nothing is wrong now dear and I only know that instance and result has made me love you so much more truly and wholly and convinced me of the pure sweet sincerity of your love.
Precious dear, you make my work such a pleasure. The rough places are made smooth. When the tasks are many and heavy to think of your dear sweet pure holy love is rest and comfort. I wish we were both ten years younger to enjoy it longer. Dear you don’t know how sweet to be really in love.
Mr. Bower told me when a grand toast master you made. Said you were a prince. You never told me and you must have known. All my love Roma
Fred→Roma
Precious sweetheart:
You will receive under separate cover, my Masonic pin, which I will ask you to wear on your trip to Toledo, or elsewhere, you may travel. Wear it where it can be seen. You will find it helpful in your travels and will bring you attentions, not generally accorded the general public. I am proud to serve as the Junior Warden of my lodge (Aurora Lodge No. 48 F and A.M.) December first I am to be advanced to Senior Warden.
Your note acknowledging receipt of the veil is just received. Am glad you liked it. For obvious reasons the pin I am sending is only loaned. No such condition attaches to any other token I have sent.
Thinking of you, love dear, brings such sweet and comforting solace when cares press hard and heavy.
I am asked to give a short talk on “pep” Friday night at the “Apple Eat and Snake Dance” to be held in Second Church. I can’t invite you because it’s for men only.
Love without end, Fred.
Roma→Fred
October 24, 1915
Dearest Sweetheart:
This is Sunday Night 12:15 A.M. to be exact. I intented [sic] to write you this P.M. but I had some work to get out that I had planned to do Monday, as I did not think we would have school as a member of our school board died Sat. The funeral is to be Monday at 2:30 P.M. There will be no school in the afternoon, but the morning is when my work comes.
Don’t you breath [sic] a word of this, but Friday night I had a message from Mr. B. asking me to meet him in Columbus Sat. I wired back I could not come. Today at noon I received a long distance call asking if he could come up. He has just left. Dear this is really getting serious and you and I have got to come at some understanding soon.
I guess we girls will come to Portsmouth for Thanksgiving. Will write more about it or ask Mr. B. What I want to tell you is, he thinks you gave me my watch. I let it go at that. He said he was going to ask you.
Admit or deny as you please but let me know. Mr. B. may stay until tomorrow night and he may go in the morning.
I am so tired but if I don’t write now you won’t hear until Tuesday.
Much love, Roma.
Mon. A.M. Everyone here likes you best.
Roma→Fred
October ??, 1915
My precious darling Fred:
If there is anything to mental telepathy you surely have received communications from me this afternoon, and it was a funeral that caused it. You may have read of the death of the late Judd Asire, funeral director of Fostoria. He was a member of the school board, so the school was dismissed. It was by far the largest funeral I have ever attended. Altho [sic] a young man of thirty-five, he was known and loved by all, and was considered the most popular man in Fostoria. He belonged to three fraternal organizations, and I can’t tell you what all. He has also had a very responsible life. He lost his father, mother and wife in one year. His wife left two little girls one two and a half, the other four. In a year or more he married again and leaves a beautiful “young widow”—poor girl. I believe you once said you had no ambition to have a “young widow”—and dear heart, I believe if I were in that girl’s place, and it had been you in that casket, I would either die too or go crazy. People said “altho Judd (that is what everyone called him, he was so well known, I am quoting) was only thirty-five he had lived his three-score years and ten.” He has traveled abroad and was so well known all over. Now dear I am going to tell you why you were so near to me at the funeral and ever since his death in fact. Shortly after I came, Clara and I were downtown and on the corner were two men. Clara said “there is a man just like Mr. Winter. Everyone knows and loves him. He can adapt and adjust himself to any circumstance and situation. He can converse on any subject and in general made himself a good fellow always. The only place he had one over on you was that he had been married twice.” I don’t know whether you remember our big Methodist Church or not, but it was packed, not even a foot of standing room and they said a bigger crowd was outside than in. I am going to send you papers of his death and funeral. Just as I was ready to leave the house your beautiful letter, weighted with the purest and sweetest love came to me. Dear it just seems as though I must fly to your bosom and never return. I was so glad to have you reassure me of the purity and intensity of your love. If any love ever bordered the spiritual mental and physical it is ours, at least that is mine and I believe and am convinced that yours is there to.
Precious, I want to warn you about living so fast and doing too many things. That is what Mr. Asire did and while his short life was worthwhile, yet dear I cannot spare you. I want you to live and be kind and loving as you are now but don’t do too much and don’t worry. I am afraid you worry over me and that I worry you about things I say. I don’t want you to dear, and would save you if I could, but lover I can’t see how if you love me as you say you do, and you know that pure sweet holy love is reciprocated, and you know that there is another man ready and willing to marry me, you would marry me if you had thirty cents in your pocket and take a “job” until a “position” opens up. Mr. B. was down to see me as you know, and Fred dear he lay a claim to all you do. He has told me over and over again that Winter does not love me anymore than he does. I never saw such a starved man. He has been as sweet and good to me and I am very fond of his company and him. I could marry Mr. Bower and be happy and be a true honest wife, but my love for him could never border on the spiritual as it does for you. Dear, I should be as clay in your hands, you could mold and pattern me as you please and in the hands of such an artist I am sure I would finally be rounded out into the beautiful woman I want to be. But I am getting away from my subject. I never could or would allow myself to be serious with Mr. Bower or believe he was. Dear, you were right, he does want to marry me. He came up Sunday with no other purpose than to get the lay of the land. I just laughed him off. He said you loves that man Winter and I know it. I do love you dear with all my heart. While I know you love me, and if everything were “convenient” I know you love me well enough to bestow upon me the greatest honor any man can give a woman when he gives her his name, but unfortunately that convenient time does not seem to be at hand and you do not seem to be willing to assume any responsibility until it does. Dear, I am afraid Mr. Bower went away hurt, but I could not let him love me as you do and be true to you. If he could not kiss me he would kiss my dress. If Mr. Bower asks me again he is going to know definitely whether I intend to marry you or him. I can only laugh and fool it off now. I feel that I am yours spiritually and physically, yet dear, you have never asked me to marry you, and I don’t suppose I should assume that you will. I am really too tired to think straight and then this is so hard to explain on paper.
Lover the big Ohio and Indiana football game is to be played at the O.S.U. a week from Sat. Nov. 6. The girls are coaxing me to go down. Could you come down that Friday night and stay until Sunday night? I could stay until seven o’clock. It just seems as though I must see you.
We girls are coming to Portsmouth for Thanksgiving so you might as well know you have those dates taken. Mr. B. and I got it “partly” fixed up. However, I should like to see you “alone” before then. Let me know about Nov. 5, 6 and 7 so I can write Mrs. Todd.
Darling it is late and I am very weary. I have written this in bed because it was such an effort to sit at the table.
Precious darling angel Food, Good-night.
As you see the above was written last evening but I have not had time to mail it.
Your card was received today noon and I noticed “where” and “what” you are trying to land. Lover, does all of our future happiness depend upon that land?
There is a dry speech at the Methodist Church tonight. I do wish you were here to go with me for I feel I should like to go. Hall and Summers give their debate here tomorrow night. Do you remember when we heard them in Portsmouth? That was our “fateful” Sunday. I hope it will not be too cold at Thanksgiving time, for we sure are planning on having one big time.
Dearest I have got it into my head that I must see you a week from this Sat. How about it? I go to Toledo this week. Saturday I have an invitation to Tiffin to hear Mr. Bryan talk [William Jennings Bryan]. Mr. B. hears him in Columbus today.
Dear you told me about the music book. That surely was thotful of you to try and get it. I shall be glad to take the will for the deed. When the soap came I thot that was the book. I was so dead tired that night that I threw myself on the bed and began refreshing myself by reading your good letter first. Next I opened the package expecting to find my book, and low and behold it was not. I laughed until I thot I would die, but believe me, my sweetheart I was glad to get it. I am using “one” cake now and like it so much.
I will have to know as soon as possible about Nov. 6 so as to plan my work.
Much love, Roma.
Fred→Roma
To the sweetest of the sweet:
That endearing salutation that began your last letter, received this morning, made my heart throb with impulses of supreme delight and I longed for the wings of an eagle that I might the more swiftly fly to your side. Your letter was indeed ladened with sweetness and it seemed that far more was contained in it than was expressed in words. I liked its length, breadth and depth and have pressed it to my heart with the passion of the truest love.
Sweetheart, my heart swelled with pride as I read your account of the eulogy paid the member of your school board, who recently passed away, when you drew the analogy between him and me in respect to character; I feel absolutely unworthy of such compliment. And now, dear Roma, I do not care to pass from the sublime to the ridiculous, but there is an amusing side to it, when you think that it was a funeral and a “dead one” that suggested me. You might think it over—it’s good when it reaches you. Anyway let me say that the only thing, sweeter than your letter, that you could have sent me, would have been yourself. I think—yes I know you are the brightest light that has ever shone on and in my life. While I have not asked you to marry me, my actions have been awfully loud, if not so definite as words.
Yes, dear, I have worried over you—it has been the worry and anxiety born of an intense love. I have heard it said that when the right girl comes along, a fellow will “fall” for it, even if he has but fifteen cents in his jacket. To that I cannot consistently subscribe, nor is it necessary.
Love, do you remember how you recalled to my mind, when I visited you in Bucyrus, what I said the night I embraced you, in Portsmouth—when our love was just budding—“Gad, I wish you were mine”—well, I meant that; you surprised me when you mentioned it, for I thought it made little impression. I want to say to you that I fell in love with you right then and there.
Dearest Roma, for quite a while I hesitated to write you frankly and say, “I love you” but, finally I just got so fully of it, that I effervesced and the rest of the story you know. Another good reason why I want you so much is because I know there are no duplicates, and if there were, I’d want you just as bad.
I’ll neither resort to innuendo nor subterfuge to conceal the fact that I am desperately in love with you. I hold that marriage is a sacred thing and the most serious contract in which a man and a woman may enter.
If the sun of prosperity had shown on me with half the brilliancy that it has on Mr. B. you would be with me tonight. There is so much I could write you respecting matters in a business and financial way, as they affect me, but I will defer that until I see you, which I hope will be soon.
I feel quite sure I can meet you in Columbus on the dates you mention—Nov. 6-7.
My dear girl I’m not looking for a “job” or a “position” nor a clerkship of any kind; my training has been away from that. I am demanding liberty and independence, or better expressed, I am insisting on retaining my liberty and independence—privileges I so highly treasure.
Sweetheart dear, do you know that each time I visited you—Marion, Bucyrus, Columbus and Fostoria I wanted to bring you back with me. What a fruitful source of inspiration you are—when I want to revel in thoughts sublime, I just fix my mind on you. Love, (I like to call you that) several years ago, a man, who seemed unhappily married, told me he would not marry the best woman on earth. I heard of another man (perhaps you have, also) who said that when he married his wife, she was so good and sweet, he could eat her, and after he was married about a year, he said he was damned sorry he didn’t eat her. Let me say that stories like that mean little or nothing to me.
Say pet, Congressman Landis told me yesterday that President Wilson had a private telephone wire established between the White House and the home of his fiancee. Now, wouldn’t that be just fine between your room and my home?
Dear Roma, I am just a little “fussed” over the letter received today and the reason is not hard to find. I feel that this letter is not a fit answer. I have the impression that it will seem spasmodic, since I have written somewhat at random, and have made no attempt at logical order.
You have paid me more than one undeserved compliment in the letter referred to. The paragraph in which you refer to yourself as clay in my hands is truly sublime and stands as the most appealing thing you have ever written me. My, what manner of man do you think I am! As I meditate upon the supreme beauty of thought, both expressed and implied, in that paragraph, my thoughts take wings and soar.
Dear, I trust that the demand for a definite answer will not be pressed with undue haste. I realize the situation to the full, and I shall continue to act honorably and with as much haste as reason, consistency, propriety and circumstances will permit.
Quite a while ago, you wrote me that you could marry Mr. B. and be his true and happy wife, and I have no reason to doubt you. I at that time placed my O.K. on him and it remains there to this day and I have no desire to take it off. I’ll say to you that if I had you, I’d be the proudest man in town and I’d be after showing you off in fashion becoming my social station. As a card player I am a complete failure and have never been able to arouse interest in the game. I sometimes regret that I do not play, for I am compelled to turn down frequent invitations to card parties among friends. For card playing I never leave the family circle. I have danced some, and like it. I have never attended a dance in Portsmouth. I should like to learn some of the new dances. The Masons will open their new lodge rooms about Jan first. a Fine pipe organ is being installed. A b dance, full dress affair, will be given in the new ballroom. As an officer in the Lodge I shall have my part to play. I’d be proud to have you there.
My love, I shall have more to say in a very short time, concerning the proposition, suggested by the card I sent you.
Yes, sweetheart, I remember our “fateful” Sunday, when we heard the debate in Trinity Church; I remember how I reached across the back of the pew and held your slender little hand—I can feel the pressure now—“Tis a fragrant retrospection, for the happy thots that start into being are like perfume from the blossoms of the heart.” I am about to close this “night letter” and I want to seal it with a thousand kisses, and a world of love.
Forever your love, Fred.
Excuse stationery. Best I can do. F.
QBA 