Introducing June's Parents

Filling in with some background information during a letter-writing hiatus from October 6 to November 9, 1949, as June recuperates at the hospital from a ruptured appendix…

June was the daughter of a happy marriage between a Southerner and a Northerner – something that wasn’t all that common back in the 1920s!

Maud Elizabeth Clem.

Her mother was Maud Elizabeth Clem, born in 1902 and descended from the Clem, Rosser, and Zirkle families of Virginia.  Maud grew up in Luray, Virginia, located in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains and home of Luray Caverns.  In fact, Maud’s father claimed to be the electrician who put the first electric lights in the famous caverns.

June’s father was Theodore Carl Anderson, born in Pigeon Cove, Massachusetts in 1901.  Both of his parents (June’s grandparents) were teenage immigrants to America.  His father, Carl Anderson, came from Sweden and his mother, Anna Nilssen, from Denmark.  They had seven children who were raised on the poultry farm they established in Deep River, Connecticut.  Theodore attended Brown University and took a job with the phone company (American Telephone & Telegraph).



Theodore Carl Anderson
at Brown University.

It was the phone company job that brought Theodore to Virginia while still a young man.  Even though he was a Yankee, he was warmly received in small town Virginia.  In addition to his phone company work, he played his trumpet at town events and as accompaniment to silent films at the local theater.  He was young and good looking and attracted the attention of the local girls.  It was Maud who won his heart.

They married in 1923 and moved to New York City a short time later – another phone company transfer.  Maud loved this experience of the big city, but they only lived there for a short time.  By 1925, they were designing the house they wanted in Patchogue, Long Island.  June was born in the new family house in Patchogue on January 25, 1929, their first child.

(On Friday, an introduction to Art’s parents…)

Countdown:  Correspondence resumes in 27 days.

© 2010 Lee Price

A Fine Romance

Filling in with some background information during a letter-writing hiatus from October 6 to November 9, 1949, as June recuperates at the hospital from a ruptured appendix…

June and Art.

June and Art met in May 1949.  For the next four summer months, they went on frequent dates, doubtless increasingly aware of June’s impending return to school in the city.  The first six letters reveal an easy natural chemistry had already developed between them.  They know each other’s personalities and comfortably tease each other.

There are no big declarations of love in this first exchange of letters, but from the start, they consistently sign their letters “love” or “all my love.”  It’s natural to assume that June and Art were having regular phone conversations, as well.  Doubtless, things were discussed on the phone that were equally (if not sometimes more) important as the stories in the letters.  Our view is limited.

June had a tendency toward depression, and her moodiness is often acknowledged in the letters.  She usually attributes it to homesickness or separation from Art, but there are indications it runs deeper than that.  Art was very aware of this tendency and would try to cheer her up.  Of course, the best way to cheer June up was always the promise of a visit.

When reading the letters, it’s important to remember their youth.  In fall 1949, June is 20 and Art is 22.  Neither is worldly.  June is a student, entirely reliant on her parents for the money needed to live in the city.  Art lives at home with his parents, working as a grocery store clerk in a small town.  June may have dreamed of becoming a successful fashion designer and Art of being discovered as a fine oil painter, but any ambitions of that sort are minor in the light of their overriding main concern – seeing each other as often as possible.

(On Wednesday, an introduction to June's parents...)

Countdown:  The correspondence resumes in 29 days.

© 2010 Lee Price

Fragility

Filling in with some background information during a letter-writing hiatus from October 6 to November 9, 1949, as June recuperates at the hospital from a ruptured appendix…

(Cross-posted on the Preserving a Family Collection blog…)  June’s sudden hospitalization scared everyone.  While she had been to see her doctor previously about her appendicitis symptoms, the doctor had encouraged the family to believe that June’s aches and pains were nothing serious.  He was wrong.  When June entered the hospital, her life was in danger.

About two weeks previous to this, Art had a scare himself.  He hit a deer while driving home at night from June’s on Flanders Road, a 10-minute stretch through a wooded area between Riverhead and Hampton Bays.  The large deer dashed across the road right in front of him and he was unable to brake in time.

The car was nearly totaled, and that’s the reason that his Nash is in the garage for repairs during that first exchange of letters.

You replay things like this in your head.  You wonder:  What might have happened?  The question never goes away, reemerging unexpectedly in the dark of night many years later.  You think how things may have turned out very different.

The letters could have ended here.

* * * * *

 

I find myself surrounded by fragility.  When I pack the family collection into the car and drive 550 miles back to New Jersey, I keep thinking that all these records are so vulnerable in this one car – one blow-out of a tractor trailer on the road, one drunk driver skidding over the line, and a century’s worth of family records could be lost in minutes.

Paper can be resilient.  As organic material, its eventual deterioration is inevitable, unstoppable, but these papers, artwork, and photographs have the capability of surviving for many decades.  It’s a lost cause to think they’ll survive forever, but it remains a good cause to at least attempt to pass them down to the next generation.  As Jimmy Stewart said in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies), lost causes are the only causes worth fighting for.

Preservation of a family collection is a lost cause worth fighting for.

People are resilient, too.  Sometimes, by miracle or chance, they pull through.  But even if you leave the hospital or get out of the totaled car in good condition, the experience remains a reminder of our extreme vulnerability.  Our lives, relationships, stories, and our family collections are fragile, beautiful, and worth preserving.

(On Monday, June and Art and their romance…)

Countdown:  The correspondence resumes in 30 days.

© 2010 Lee Price

A Life-Threatening Disruption

There’s a month-long break in the letters at this point.  June and Art don’t return to writing again until November 9.  Something happened that weekend that dramatically interrupted all routines of school and letter writing.

Studio photo of June.

Throughout the summer and into the early fall, June suffered from intermittent and unexplained pains and aches.  Her mother had taken her to the family doctor, but he was unable to make a diagnosis.  They assumed it was nothing serious.

June came home to Riverhead for the weekend, probably arriving Friday night.  On Saturday morning, she didn’t feel well and called Art to cancel plans for the night.  Concerned, Art bought flowers and drove out to Riverhead to see her.  But when he arrived, June was feeling better and busy cleaning the house.  She was embarrassed, thinking it might look to Art like she was making excuses to get out of a date.

Shortly after Art left, June suddenly felt very sick -- much worse than before --  and her parents rushed her to the hospital.

The situation turned out to be much more serious than expected—even life-threatening.  Her appendix had ruptured, releasing toxins throughout her system.  Over the next couple of weeks, she was operated on at least twice and had to remain quiet in the hospital to recuperate.  June doesn’t return to Traphagen until November 9, missing four weeks of school.

It’s probably safe to assume that Art visited her often in the hospital.

(On Monday, June and Art and their romance…)

Correspondence resumes in 31 days.  During this letter-writing hiatus, we’ll fill in some background on June and Art.

© 2010 Lee Price

A Swell Feeling to Have a Letter Waiting

Thursday, October 6, 1949

20 Cooper St.

Southampton, NY

Dear June,

It sure is sweet to hear from you.  I’ve been taking it easy lately, early to bed every night.  I’ll be ready to stay up all night when you do come home.

Southampton United Methodist Church.

Last night I (alone again) saw Anna Lucasta with Paulette Goddard.  It was pretty good.  I think I’ve told you that I belong to the Men’s Club of our church.  We have a supper tomorrow and I’m on the committee so I spent this evening scrubbing potatoes and setting tables.  Now it’s only 9:30 and I’m home already.  I’m really getting in a rut!

I hope you’ve made out all right with your roommates by now.  Don’t do so much worrying, though, it doesn’t do any good.  Too bad I’m not there to try and cheer you up.  What about your old roommate Janie?  Is she in the city, Nassau, Lake George, or Timbuktu?

Still no car but I’m hoping I’ll have it this weekend.  If I decide to come in, I’ll call you Saturday.  If I don’t get my car back, maybe I’ll call you Sunday.  It’s no fun bumming around alone anymore.

Keep writing!  It’s a swell feeling when my mother comes in the store at noon and says there’s a letter waiting at home for me.  See you soon.

Love,

Art

(For Saturday, a life-threatening disruption…)

© 2010 Lee Price

Temporary Depression

Thursday, October 6, 1949

(just after supper, 6:45 p.m. – we’re getting ritzy – eating later!)

40 W. 96th St.
New York City, NY

Dear Art,

I was depressed today.  Then three things happened to change me into a happy little soul.

1 – I called Daddy and he strongly told me not to worry about our apartment troubles.

2 – Our landlord talked to us – more furniture is coming and the gas has been connected – as soon as we call the company, we can start cooking.

3 – I got a letter from you.


Design for Traphagen ad by June Price.



Daddy was very happy to hear from me.  I called him up to give him reports on recent events.  I still have no roommates and it begins to look hopeless – and I had to ask him to send some vitally needed work that I did last year.  As I have said before, he was very glad to hear from me.  It seems mother was getting worried and was actually talking about calling you up to see how I was!  Just think – you probably would have heard from Mother tonight if I hadn’t called.  I guess I’d better keep in better touch with them.

I also feel better about school.  All the teachers admit it’s a terrific jump from first year to the second.  While the work is much harder, it also is much more interesting.

Art, it certainly was nice to come home from school to a letter from you.  I certainly do hope you get your car soon so that you can be out and around again.  Naturally, I’d love to see you during the weekend, but I think the trip is too much for you, all in a day like that.  If you ever call, add that I’m in Apt. 1a.

Now to homework.  Do write more letters – don’t forget!

All my love,

June

P.S.  Glad to hear the blondes haven’t latched onto you yet!

(Tonight -- Art likes getting letters, too...)

© 2010 Lee Price

Life Without a Car

Tuesday, October 4, 1949

20 Cooper St.
Southampton, NY

Dear June:

I got your letter yesterday. It sounds like you’ve been working pretty hard. Let me know about your roommates, I hope you had good luck.


Art's Nash.

 I’ve been taking it pretty easy lately (no car, of course). I went in the Nash garage yesterday to see about my car. It sounds like it’s almost finished. With luck, I should have it in a day or two. I sure hope so – I’m really lost without it. If I do get it back before this weekend I’m thinking of coming in to you. Don’t worry – if I do come, I’ll try and phone you first. Will you be around the apartment on Saturday? If I call person to person, will the landlord know who I’m asking for? Does he know you by now? If I come in, it will be Sunday morning, I imagine. I’ll take you to church, maybe.

Charcoal sketch by
Art Price.

I came home Saturday night at 10:30 after the show. On Sunday, I listened to the ballgame and went to bed early. Last night I went to the movies (alone) and saw Under Capricorn. It was lousy. Don’t bother to see it.  Tonight, I've been working on my art course.

I hope you finally got a check cashed. Do you want a character reference from me?

The boss asked me today if I want to start my vacation on Oct. 17, two weeks from now. So maybe I’ll be seeing you more often than we thought.  Don’t work too hard now. Remember me to Shirl and to your family when you write them.

Love,

Art

(Thursday – letters from both June and Art…)

© 2010 Lee Price