Don’t know how long it will last.
Well I can’t write any college because I don’t know where I’m going to be—I do expect to be home early in September and then will start out for school again. And so since there isn’t any chance for Harvard just pick out any southern college with a nice name—I think Tulane sounds better than Tucson—and let H—send what ever they have to. I don’t know and it doesn’t particularly matter.
I got the check at the Springs and thanks tho I shan’t need it for a while unless I’m fired which is very probable.
I think it’s foolish to try an urinalysis—besides have no place to so just tell Williams and all his buddies to find some other where to peddle their bottles and pills—I’m all thru with them.
The address is just Pando Colo. and the boots will probably come in a few days—
Well must get to bed to get up at 4:30 tomorrow morning—
Love
Bill
To Edith Gaddis
[WG returned to Harvard in September 1942.]
Harvard University
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[25 September 1942]
Dear Mom—
Well it began today—classes, I mean—and oh boy! Now the devil to pay for eight months hence I guess.
I had a talk with Dean Leighton—am only supposed to take 2 subjects but have signed up for 4—think I can talk Dr. Bach into it. Am taking Eng. A (required), French C (required—lousy course—just lousy right thru to the last day, but required), Eng I—good course—history of Eng. literature—open to freshmen and sophs—and psychology I—a 2nd year course—had to get permission from the instructor to take it—reputed to be tough but a good course. Also books have been changed for all courses but Eng A—so today spent practically $10 on books—still lack three.
The extra $100 for tuition is OK—all the boys had trouble—many with own checking acc’ts—were stymied—but they don’t catch up for a day or two and by that time it will be straightened out.
Got a letter from Underwood—they say the typewriter is on the way—I already owe a 600 wd. theme! Boy they don’t waste time.
I got my lamp back from Neil and the clock—and am going to get the rug as soon as I have time!
Francis is OK for roommate—very conservative—quiet—extremist really—maybe he’ll be a good influence.
John [Snow] is still the same—and the old crowd—same bunch—you know I feel like an upper classman—all upper classmen around me etc.—it’s wonderful.
Say when you get a chance could you start the following things on their way up here to make our room more habitable[:] the leopard skin on the lodge closet door—the spurs on the floor nearby—both of Smokey’s pictures—the small rug—both machetes and the little Mexican knife & sheath & chain to the right of the east hayloft windows (one machete is over hayloft door—the other on edge of balcony)—also any thing else you think might look intriguing on our wall—oh yes the steers’ horns—
Thanks
Bill
Smokey: WG’s labrador; spelled Smoky below.
To Edith Gaddis
Eliot House D-31
Cambridge, Mass.
[4 October 1942]
Dear Mom—
Back again into this wonderful old life—but for how long? Gee, it’s got me—not worried, but thinking, and wondering sometimes it seems so futile, but this is so good I wish it might last.
Thanks for the letters—and it’s so swell that the raise worked out, probably to buy me a sea chest a sailor sent or something! The package came too.
Am trying to keep work up, and to the best of my knowledge am up in it all—am recovering now from a film we had today in psychology of a dog with half a brain!! boy they have everything here.
Also have made a new discovery—the music room here, with fine record player and all kinds of classics—Afternoon of a Faun and the Bolero, Porgy & Bess, Scheherazade—everything.
I saw Cliff Mon. evening—lent him $25 to buy a little cocker spaniel which is very cute—don’t be alarmed tho—I have his check and am going to cash it tomorrow—I left him and went down to 42nd St.—up to 500 to a place Eddie South was supposed to be playing but he wasn’t there—then Café Society uptown—saw Hazel Scott—wonderful—and got a late train up—slept all the way—
Must get back to my English—
Love
Bill
Eddie South: African-American jazz violinist (1904–62).
Hazel Scott: African-American pianist (1920–81). The Café Society was a nightclub on 58th Street between Lexington and Park Avenue (an offshoot of the better known one down in Greenwich Village).
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[5 October 1942]
Dear Mom—
Thanks so much for the letter and bond—gee it will save things—I need three books for French (must read Tovaritch—in French—isn’t that awful?!!). We are also waiting to get some slip covers for our couch ($4!).
And thanks for sending the stuff—it will look swell up here. It’s all right about Smoky’s pictures—will get ’em later—And then thanks for the pen—it will be swell I know—
Don’t know about the rug but there’s time for that—And thanks for Bacchus—it will look handsome too. I know.
And now I have a bit of bad news—you remember the raincoat I was so proud of—and saw me thru from Panama to L.A.—and Arizona and everything—any how I lost it—registered at Memorial Hall for school—went out and walked half a block—remembered I’d left it in the chair—ran back—practically immediately—and it was gone—checked with janitor and lost-found—no sign—somebody picked it up so apparently it’s gone—we were thinking of a new topcoat—they have water repellant topcoats—sort
