"What Would Nixon Do?"

Paul Richardson, Vons Parking Lot, Encinitas, Calif., May 9, 2015

Last weekend I pulled into the parking lot of the neighborhood Von's [grocery store] in Encinitas, Calif. and couldn't help but notice the words, "What Would Nixon Do?" on the rear bumper of a blue truck parked in front of me. Not something you see everyday. I thought for a second that it might be someone I knew working in Washington on the two Nixon presidential campaigns and subsequently at The White House. Then, I reasoned it could also have something to do with Nixon Watches, a successful homegrown business in the heart of Encinitas. 

When I returned after shopping, the truck was still there with no sign of an owner which, I confess, disappointed me. I began putting my groceries into the back of my van, then shut the door. . .and there he was! I introduced myself and learned that the owner of the mysterious bumper sticker was Paul Richardson. Much to my delight, Paul didn't hesitate to tell me the back story.

"I’ve always been a Nixon fan, having graduated from Whittier College, Nixon’s alma mater,” he said. “Eileen and I finally visited the Nixon Library a few years ago where I spotted this bumper sticker." 

Paul explained that while at Whittier he attended a lecture series by Raymond K. Price, Nixon's chief speechwriter and, coincidentally, head of The White House speechwriting department when I worked there as a secretary from 1971 to 1973. Paul had the extraordinary experience of Mr. Price taking him and a fellow student on a personal tour of the Western White House in San Clemente in the late 1970s. 

“We picked lemons off the trees outside Nixon’s office, and sat behind Nixon’s desk. It was a special moment for both of us.” 

He continued, "It was that moment, sitting in Nixon’s chair, that we each decided on careers in politics. I joined the Marine Corps after college and then worked under a Republican Governor in North Carolina for eight years, and my friend Paul Bateman went to Washington with Ray Price. He later became one of President Reagan’s senior aides -- and continues to enjoy a successful career in politics today."

"Ray greatly influenced both of us," he added. "Every so often, someone stops me to admire my bumper sticker.”

Nixon Speechwriters (L to R): Unknown, Lee Huebner, David Gergen,
John McDonald (Back) and Raymond K. Price (Head, Presidential Speechwriting Department) Photo credit: Lillian Cox
Copyright 2011

The White House Easter Egg Hunt - April 3, 1972

Children served by St. Francis House enjoying The White House Easter Egg Hunt, 
April 3, 1972

While working as a secretary in the speechwriting office of The White House from 1971 to 1973, a close friend/coworker and I volunteered several times a week at St. Francis House located on E St., N.E. near Capitol Hill. It was founded by Father Manning Moore, a court stenographer and Methodist who converted to Catholicism in his fifties with the goal of spending his retirement ministering in the inner city. My friend and I leveraged our influence as White House employees to create opportunities for children such as being invited to the White House Easter Egg Hunt, and generating financial and product donations from Giant Food and Peoples Drug stores for programs operated by Father Moore.

Father Gene (left) and Father Manning Moore (right), 
St. Francis House, Washington, D.C., 1972

After getting off work we often ate dinner with Father Moore, and Brothers Gene and Dennis, before beginning our volunteerism which included running a charm school for teen girls and producing a talent show called "Souled Out" for the neighborhood and inmates at Lorton Reformatory in Virginia (which preceded the D.C. Jail). We also started evening "Rap Sessions" between inmates who were escorted to St. Francis House to talk to teens with the goal of deterring them from illegal activities which could land them at Lorton. 

One night over dinner I remember Father Moore looking at my friend and me and saying, "You're such nice girls. . . what I can't understand is Why do you work for Nixon?!"

Ultimately, I resigned my White House job, moved to California,  finished up my degree at San Diego State University (changing major from journalism to sociology/criminology) and embarking on a career in social services, which included running a halfway house for ex-offenders. Subsequently, I returned to communications in both the private and public sectors promoting educational technology as a means of lifting children out of poverty.

Jennifer Business College: First African-American Secretarial School in the Nation's Capital

W. Emile Jennifer, Pres.

W. Emile Jennifer established the first African-American business college in Washington in 1920 in response to news that the U.S. Civil Service Commission would finally be accepting applications from Blacks for clerical jobs. 

World War I (1914-1918) was over and the government continued to expand, so much so, that the Washington School for Secretaries was established. The school, which didn't accept Blacks, opened its doors on Monday, March 8, 1920. It was founded by Dr. Richard T. Ely, 65, a prominent economist, author and former professor of President Woodrow Wilson's at Johns Hopkins University.  Ely was also the founder of the prestigious American Economic Association.

Site, Jennifer Business College, 1243 New Jersey Ave., NW

In contrast, W. Emile Jennifer was an African-American man, age 20, who worked as a public stenographer in his parents' home while earning a bachelors degree in law at Howard University. He had the vision to launch the first business college in D.C. for African-American students, and did so nine days after the Washington School for Secretaries opened on Wednesday, March 17, 1920.

Jennifer's mother, Syme, provided capital for the venture and served as Secretary-Treasurer. The young entrepreneur, Emile, developed the curriculum, provided instruction and handled day-to-day operations including marketing.

Syme L. Jennifer, Secy.-Treas.

Ads with the headline "Wanted - Colored Students to Train" for jobs as stenographers and clerical workers were placed in daily newspapers such as The Evening Star in Washington as well as African-American newspapers including the Washington Bee and the Washington Eagle, and the Pittsburgh Courier in Pennsylvania.

The Crisis, edited by W.E.B. DuBois, and published by the NAACP, carried ads that touted the headline, "Capitalize Your Summer Months at the Nation's Capital... Special Summer Courses Now Forming."

In addition to training in shorthand (Gregg and Pittman), typing, mimeographing, multigraphing and card punch, the school promised special services such as "individual coaching" and "assistance in procuring positions after graduation." 

Ad, Chicago Defender, 1922

The Jennifer Business School operated from 1920 until 1960. Sadly, there is little information about the school in the public domain. It was only happenstance that I learned about it at all, scouring obituaries. Mr. Jennifer's 1975 obituary only mentions the existence of the school. 

I spent the last several months researching, emailing and making phone calls before I was finally able to locate a relative about three weeks ago who graciously was willing to talk to me. I would appreciate hearing from anyone who would like to add to the body of research I'm collecting about Mr. Jennifer and the Jennifer Business School. 

AfroAmerican, November 1938

In January 2013 I wrote a blog post where I incorrectly stated that Cortez W. Peters started the first African-American business college in Washington. I am updating that information with the table below of non-degree conferring schools in D.C. offering special training to Blacks. The data was compiled by the late Dr. Lillian Dabney Dearing for her thesis, "The history of schools for Negroes in the District of Columbia, 1807-1947" (Catholic University, 1949). It indicates that the Jennifer School was founded in 1920 and the Peters School in 1934:

(Click to Enlarge)

In addition to operating the Jennifer Business School, Mr. Jennifer was a pianist who at one time was affiliated with Duke Ellington, and performed around town with the Jennifer Society Orchestra which he founded. 

He also served alongside his mother in the Civil Defense as an air raid warden. Mr. Jennifer's father, Prof. William Jennifer, was an educator, attorney and statistician with the federal government.

(Click to Enlarge)

  

Then & Now: Miami Vies for 2016 Democratic National Convention

Source: Ocean Drive Magazine, July/August 2014

'When Harry Met Sally' Writer Nora Ephron: "Only White House intern Kennedy didn't make a pass at"

Nora Ephron (2nd from left) and RFK in The White House, 1961

Me and JFK - now it can be told: How NORA EPHRON was the only White House intern Kennedy didn't make a pass at (...maybe it was the dress that looked like processed cheese) 

By Nora Ephron
Daily Mail

I was an intern in the JFK White House. I was. 

This is not one of those humor pieces where the writer pretends to some experience currently in the news in order to make an ‘amusing’ point. 

It was 1961, and I was hired by Pierre Salinger to work in the White House press office, the very same place where Mimi Fahnestock was to work the following year. 

And now that Mimi Fahnestock has been forced to come forward and admit that she had an affair with JFK, I might as well tell my story too. 

I notice that all the articles about poor Mimi quote another woman in the press office, Barbara Gamarekian, who fingered Fahnestock in the oral history archives at the Kennedy Library. Gamarekian cattily pointed out, according to the newspapers, that Mimi ‘couldn’t type.’ 

Well, all I can say to that is: Ha. In fact: Double ha. 

There were, when I worked there, six women in Pierre Salinger’s office. One of them was called Faddle (her best friend, Fiddle, worked for Kennedy), and her entire job, as far as I could tell, was autographing Pierre Salinger’s photographs. 

Fiddle’s job was autographing Kennedy’s. Typing was not a skill that anyone seemed to need, and it certainly wasn’t necessary for interns like me (and Mimi, dare I say), because THERE WAS NO DESK FOR AN INTERN TO SIT AT AND THEREFORE NO TYPEWRITER TO TYPE ON. 

Yes, I am still bitter about it! Because there I was, not just the only young woman in the White House who was unable to afford an endless succession of A-line sleeveless linen dresses just like Jackie’s, but also the only person in the press office with nowhere to sit. 

And then, as now, I could type one hundred words a minute. Every eight-hour day there were theoretically forty-eight thousand words that weren’t being typed because I DIDN’T HAVE A DESK.  Click to continue reading in the Daily Mail.

Keyboarding Method of World Typing Champions Cortez W. Peters Sr. & Jr. Still Relevant Today

Cortez W. Peters, Jr. 
& Carol McCallister

In celebration of Father's Day it's important to remember the legacy of Cortez W. Peters, Sr. (1906-1964) and Cortez W. Peters, Jr. (1925-1993) which lives on years after their passing. Father and son were both World Typing Champions. Recently, I was contacted by Carol McCallister who was a student of Peters, Jr. and continues to use his trademark Cortez Peters' Championship Keyboarding Drills in classes she offers as owner of Champion Business Services in Aurora, Colo.

"I have trained over 7,000 individuals for the city and county of Denver (Colo.)," she said. "They include those who are sight- and hearing-impaired, dyslexic and physically disabled.

"Then there was Danny," she said. "He was one of my students at a community school who had taken four typing classes and still could not type beyond 30 wpm."

Employing the Cortez Peters method, Carol performed a diagnostic test and prescribed drills specifically for him.

"Danny started to progress one word at a time, from 30 to 31 to 32 to 33 wpm, all the way to 60 wpm," she recalled. "He was referred to a job after completion of the class. When a lady asked him if he could type, Danny said, 'Yes.' She tested him and he typed 60 wpm with 2 errors. She said, 'Oh, you can type!'"

 Student Merrel Booker

Textbooks written by Peters, Jr. were published by McGraw Hill. When the company held a conference in Denver, Peters, Jr. invited Carol to be his guest. Afterwards, he visited her school where he received a warm welcome.

"My students loved him! The Cortez Peters method is an individualized program so no matter how slow or fast anyone is, by following the instruction, you will succeed."


Cortez W. Peters, Jr.'s educational materials are available on Amazon.com.

Miss Duncan Goes to Washington, Part 7 of 7

(Letter to Grandmother, December 5, 1941)

Dear Choo-Choo-, 

I can't say whether all this excitement is going to come to anything, but it looks as though I might actually be going to Iceland Monday. By the time this letter gets to you, if I am going, you will have had a telegram, but anyway, I know you will be interested in how it all came to happen, or not to happen. 

Thursday morning Mr. Atkinson came into the office and said to me, "Miss Duncan, can you take it?" So of course I said I could, and he told me that five secretaries were being sent to Iceland, but that I couldn’t go because the age requirement was 28 and I'm a good ways below that. So I sat and swallowed lumps the rest of the morning, trying not to burst into tears and show how really young I am. 

Then it occurred to me, for goodness sake, who makes the rules? I asked Mr. A., but he didn’t know, Mr. Bondy is the top man in Military and Welfare Services, and he's the boy who has the last word about who is going. Mr. A. doesn’t get on well with Mr. Bondy, but Mr. Krick, who also works in this office is my and Mr. A.'s friend, is on very good terms with Mr. Bondy. (Now don't get discouraged; I know this is contem-plated, I mean complicated.) So, Mr. A. started working on Mr. K., to prove to him that I was just the girl to go and that really I am so mature that it would be much safer to send me than some flighty creature of thirty. So Friday morning Mr. Krick went to see Mr. Bondy and convinced him that the Red Cross has a wonder girl in its midst. Mr. Bondy called Mr. Sayer who has charge of hiring all stenographers for the Red Cross and who is an old friend of mine, told Mr. Sayer to see if Mr. A could be influenced toward letting this phenominon (!) out of his office to go to Iceland. 

Mr. S. called Mr. A. and Mr. Atkinson, all surprised and horrified at the idea of losing me said he would think it over, but believed my work too important for me to be released. Ho-ho. Then he sent me over to see Mr. Sayer. He sent me to be interviewed by Mr. Dinsmore, whom I had seen in connection with going to Panama so he knew me. Then Mr. D. sent me to be interviewed by a Mrs. Thornton, who had been abroad during the last war. Mr. D. was selecting 15 girls, Mrs. T. was going to narrow that down to 8 by interviews, and 5 of them could go. 

Well, Mrs. Thornton was very nice, but I was so excited that I burst a bra strap, for the first time since I was at prep school. When I told her I had a Smith degree, she got pretty excited. It seems that during the last war Smith and the other colleges sent units out to do work in Europe, relief work, I suppose, - and the Smith Unit was very much better than any of the others. 

"Smith girls have such a practical approach," she said. Then when she heard I'd been to Scotland, well, nothing was too good for me. She talked at great length about her experiences in Scotland and by the time the interview was up, she was My Friend. She asked me how old I was, and when I said only 23, she deplored the fact because she had been very firm about insisting on 25 as the very limit, and she said everyone would laugh at her for being so inconsistent, but that my service would be worth a laugh. So she gave my name as one of the 8 to go. 

I was a total wreck by this time, of course, and so puffed up with compliments and good advice that I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. I had lunch with Rosalind and we exploded at each other for a half hour. Then I came back to the office, looking very Mature. 

Finally Mr. Dinsmore called Mr. A. over to his office to help him weed out the five from the eight to go. Much heavy discussion about how did I get on with boys and would my family let me go and have I any horrid diseases and would I get homesick. At last Mr. A. come back and shook hands with me very solemnly and said I was one of the five.

Nancy Duncan reading in Iceland.

Now the only hitch is we have wired the Red Cross workers, or perhaps it’s the Army, asking if they have rooming accommodations for ten more workers, 5 stenographic and 5 special workers. We go as soon as they say they have the space for us, which can't be long. There is some kind of transport leaving from New York on Monday evening. Perhaps N. Duncan shall be on it. 

It is really a beauty of a job. The salary is $135 monthly, and I am getting $120 now. Also the Red Cross provides transportation and maintenance, ie. food and rent. Also, we have to wear uniforms all the time, which means that they provide clothing as well. What does one spend one's salary on? I don’t know what the uniform is, but on top we are going to have tremendous fur lined coats and perfectly ridiculous fur hats and mittens with gloves inside. Another good thing about it is that I will be going with a group of other girls, all older than me, of course, but still better than Franny's act of just up and going. And I will have the best medical care. If I get appendicitis, the Red Cross has to pay for it. And there is no better protection against international incidents than a Red Cross uniform. - And it's part of the agreement that I stay a year. 

I guess that's all I can tell you now. Nothing is definite. Before we go, we shall have to be inoculated, get our uniforms fitted, get passports in order, and take care of many personal items like fond farewells and warm underwear. 

If for any reason I can’t go, it will be all right and I will just be able to bear it, but if I can, it will be straight clover. They ought to tell me tomorrow morning. 

Love and Kisses,
Nancy

This letter was mailed Friday, December 5, 1941. On Sunday, December 7, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. On Monday, December 8 a record 60 million people turned on their radios to President Roosevelt's speech before Congress. The five-minute speech gave only a few facts regarding Pearl Harbor and called for a declaration of war against Japan. Within an hour the Senate declared war. A half-hour later the House concurred. The one dissenting vote in the House ended the political career of Jeanette Rankin of Montana. Source: David Brinkley, Washington Goes to War)

Copyright 2005 by Curt Taylor

Miss Duncan Goes to Washington, Part 6 of 7

Letter to Mother, October 20th - [1941]

Dear Mother,

A very busy week. Libby has had an ex-pupil of her father's visiting, so Monday night we went up to her apartment to hear him play the piano with some other friends of the Uptons.

Tuesday evening I went out with Chuck Lockhart, which happy occasion ended with my having to say 'out of my life.' I was very sorry because he is one of the few down here I have really liked, but he does not love me for my beautiful soul or my intelligent mind. He has always been a gentleman about the whole business and made no fuss, but the answer is always no. I have been feeling gorgeously pure all week.

Wednesday I saw Helen Hayes in Candle in the Wind and was disappointed in it, not nearly good enough for her. Besides, her skirts were too long. 

Thursday David White took me to see some colored slides at the Parish House of St John's, which sounded deadly but turned out to be quite fun. It is the Rev. C. Leslie's church, and full of attractive young people. The pictures were taken by the man who was the official photographer of the King and Queen when they were in this country. Home for cider and doughnuts. 

Friday Molly's Uncle Junior Almy came to dinner and regaled us with tales of how awful is this administration. He is trying to get some priority stuff through OPM and can’t get anywhere because every time he comes down there’s a different man in charge of the division he's interested in. Afterwards Molly and I went up with our beer mugs to a party Libby was giving for numerous friends. Delectable shrimps on toothpicks. I met and conversed with a very presentable Gentile, Mr. Parhurst, Williams '34, and was thinking what a happy little conquest I was making when Mrs. Upton came up and said, "I'm so sorry your wife couldn’t come. How soon do you expect the baby?"

* * *

 
. . .When a 248 came through showing the resignation of a secretary at the Naval Base there, I called René, found out I could afford to pay my own way there and rushed over to converse with Mr. Dinsmore. He said sure, to write to the Field Director, airmail, ask him to hold the position open and that I would be right down. 

Then, just to be sweet, I pulled the one about little me with my father so far away, what would you advise, Mr. Dinsmore. He made a big song and dance about the effect of the tropics on the moral fiber of young and attractive girls and the general degeneration of standards, etc. Asked Mr. Atkinson and he said it would be lonely, and interesting, and hot. Talked further with René and he got out a lot of travel stuff about it,very discouraging, so finally I went home still undecided, with an airmail letter all written and ready to be sent. 

Washington looked pretty sweet and my little apartment looked even sweeter. The gist of it all is that I tore up the letter. The next morning when Mr. A. heard that I had turned it down, he asked whether I would be interested in the office that is being set up in the First Corp Area as liaison between the ARC, OCD and the Massachusetts Committee on Public Safety. It would be for the duration and in Boston. I thought about it for a while and finally turned that down too. I will never be in such a good position to be sent anywhere, and to waste that opportunity on Boston, the only advantage of which would be to save rent, seems a little dumb. The other side of all this is, though, that I may not be able to be so fussy. Perhaps I ought to grab whatever I can get, like the Canal Zone. These chances don't come along too often. Besides, I can see myself already digging the Governmental Rut along with the Federal Spread.

Which is the extent of what has happened to me.
 
                                         * * *
Letter to Mother, Oct. 27 - [1941]

Dear Mother,

This proposition may break yet. Mr. A. told me this morning that the head of Services to the Armed Forces had asked him didn't he want to go (to Iceland). He emphatically does not. But in discussing it he found out that the Army has turned over the whole recreation program of the Post to the Red Cross, which will mean that we must send several more people up there. Mr. A had a chance to mention to the Vice Chairman that I want to go and he said he didn’t know yet whether they would have to send a secretary. But with this new program opening up, there is more of a chance than before. I have seen all the people there are to see about it here. When I turned down the Canal Zone, I wrote Mr. Dinsmore a memo saying I was holding out for Iceland. So maybe -- but I am not counting on anything. Everyone continues to say I am crazy to want to go. . .

Love and kisses, 
Nancy 

Copyright 2005 by Curt Taylor

Miss Duncan Goes to Washington, Part 5 of 7

Letter to Mother August 18 [1941]

Dear Mother-,

Washington, D.C., 1941

 . . .About last week, - a good deal seems to have happened. Monday night Molly Bidwell came to dinner. Tuna fish goo in your little baking dishes. We all got on very nicely. After dinner Ed Bernett, Libby's little man, appeared, conversed, and took Libby out. Then René called, appeared, conversed and took Franny out. Then little Chuck called, appeared and conversed. Molly looked them all over, and I could see her deciding our house is a Social Center, Nice Young Men etc. So she is very anxious to room with me, and I suppose we will really swing it. Franny has given notice on her job for Sept. 15 and is planning to leave for Hawaii on the Oct. 2 boat if no job breaks here meantime. Of course I am dying to go with her, - she has a friend there who reports the place is full of jobs, - but it costs $160 to get there and we probably wouldn’t want to stay more than a year, which would mean coming back sans job, a condition which my bank account does not let me face with equanimity. But Franny's job here isn't going at much of a sacrifice and she is borrowing funds to a perilously large extent from her family, about $200, I think. I wouldn't wince in the least, asking Papa for money if I needed it, but I can’t quite see asking for it to whip out to Hawaii on. Anyway, she's going, full of talk about living the abundant life and gathering rose buds (to me, Washington is still full of a good many rosebuds ungathered) and enjoy yourself while you're young.

Red Cross secretary, and new Smith College graduate, 
Nancy Duncan is selected to serve on the advisory 
council for Glamour, "the fashion mag for career girls."

. . .Thursday we went to a cocktail party at the Willard [Hotel] for 25 successful business girls who have been carefully selected to serve as an advisory council for Glamour magazine, the fashion mag for career girls. They got our names from the Smith Quarterly. Free subscription, free drinks, pictures taken for the magazine, questionnaire, circulated on things like - How do you keep your boss cool? Ye gads. 

. . .I have gone into most doldrumish depths about my job. I don’t see how anyone can be so stupid. I honestly do try but am simply hopelessly untrained and inadequate. It's all very fine to talk about how lovely is quick promotion, and I am still 'dignified, discrete (discreet) and mature.' But so what? I'm still a lousy stenographer. But everyone, particularly Mr. Atkinson, is very gentle with me. Still, I know without being told, what a second rate job I'm doing. . .

Love and kisses, 
Nancy 

Copyright 2005 by Curt Taylor

Miss Duncan Goes to Washington, Part 4 of 7

Letter to Mother - April 21st [1941]

Constitution Hall
Washington, D.C.

Dear Mother:

Guess where I am now. The jolly old Red Cross is having a Convention of about 5,000 people. I have been assigned for the week to the registry desk where I am expected to slip little cards into big badges, file identification cards, and answer innumerable questions. 

The doors don't open until a half hour yet, and I have been locked in, posted by the telephones to tell people we are sorry but no exceptions can be made, while policemen guard every door against the mob of too hot but beautifully dressed delegates. Most of the Washington public is expected tonight too, because Franchot Tone is to be here, and Conrad Thibault, and Burgess Meredith.

This afternoon Franchot was rehearsing and we took turns sneaking in to gawp [sic] at him. Looked pretty normal to me, and a bit healthier. I always thought he was the sort of wistful type. The trouble with this organization is that the whole country is a member and you can't turn anyone away or even be snappy.

 
Even Mr. Leverenz noticed my sunburn today when he came over to get a badge for young Neil. And he introduced me to his wife. I am truly a secretary, when I meet the boss’s wife. Anyway, I was driven down to where Dick and Bill Stix keep their boat, in an open car in all the heat and got quite a burn, but becoming. Dick got an A 2 - or is it a 1 B rating - on the draft, which means that he won't be called until they have taken all the physically fit. The big accusation against him is that he is "underdeveloped." So we are writing a song about My Underdeveloped Husband, still in embryonic form, of course.

             

Rosalind and Dick did really see Mrs. S. last week. But it was necessary to threaten that Dick would never darken her door again to make her do it. Dick has never been so happy and they are planning a June wedding. R. will probably give up her job by the middle of May and concentrate on furniture and a trousseau. The issue of the minister still hasn't been met and I think that meeting the lady is only the beginning, but they are in a very optimistic mood just now.

Went for a very romantic walk with a young Southerner at the Red Cross on Sunday night, all around by the Lincoln Memorial etc. Sweet summer night, soft breezes, and all that sort of thing. Spring. Doesn’t seem to add up to the right answer, though. A good time was had by all. Particularly not the tall Southerner. We came back and ate at our House. Ye ghads, but it has been hot. Too hot for my suit a couple of times. On Sunday I wore my new red seersucker. The wind blows up the full skirt something higeous.

To dinner last Wednesday with that radio person, and - of all things - golf afterwards. We went to one of those places where they give you a pail of balls and a target and set you to it. I got a blister and not a little enthusiasm for the game. Not at all expensive when someone else pays for it... R. was overcome with joy when I told her, after all her hecklings in St. Andrews to make me play. And the blister was awfully convincing.

Things are pepping up here and so Igudda start being polite again. Have a lovely time.

Love and Kisses, 

Nancy

Copyright 2005 by Curt Taylor

Miss Duncan Goes to Washington, Part 3 of 7

February 10, 1941 

Dear Mother --, 

Perfectly blissful weekend - absolutely nothing to do. All of Q Street [group of single men, many of whom are Jewish and work for the federal government] has gone home to celebrate the Passover, so I am left in pleasantly Christian solitude. Yesterday after meeting Rosalind at the Allies Inn for lunch in my new suit, I went back to the office and worked until after six all alone.

We have been quite swamped these last few days. The State Department doesn't know whether it's coming or going and we have to keep straightening them out. We finally got the complete list of all Americans waiting in Lisbon for passage to this country - about 300 of them - and we are trying to get together all possible information about them to send on to Sadie. This entails no end of red tape with the Passport Division, Division of Account, Special Sections, and various other parts of the Department of State. Quell mess. 

My suit is a Constant Joy. I have worn it twice without a top coat; it has been that warm down here. Rosalind is still faintly green. The other two are all hemmed, pressed, and put in a dark corner to await the real heat. I haven't got around to the cherries yet, though.

Nancy's Friend, Harold Leaventhal, 1941

Saw Blossom Time with Harold on Thursday night. It seemed a bit tacky, or maybe I am developing Harold's sophisticated attitude, or maybe our seats were too good. Fun, though. Friday night dancing at the Madrillon with a boy named Mauer who works in radio somewhere. All I really know is that he isn't a lawyer. A couple of very pleasant luncheons with Frank Newman of the R.C. Practically all in my suit. 

Rosalind and Dick have left for New York and the Salant residence today, the ultimatum having had some effect. I am on the old pins and needles to hear the results. No word on his being drafted yet. 

I have been so industrious this morning. I washed all the Venetian blinds for the first time in the history of Robduncanbuck Digs. Also all shelves, the kitchen, and the icebox. Then I made orange jelly and poured it into the egg shells that I had blown empty for my scrambled egg. Or did you see that stunt in the Ladies Home Companion too? I kept some of the extra juice so I could taste it when it jelled, and just had it for lunch with - I blush - whip cream. 

A really marvelous letter from Donald: "and then when they hear that they must go to Washington for the duration to work on defense housing and defense and bombs and bomb shelters - they say oh hell and they are a little torn because of other things - then they loose the chance on account of they were too slow to chuck their ideals into an anti-aircraft shell." (I guess that he’s been reading a lot of Dos Passos again.) Lord, I hate to think what his setting up residence in Washington would mean. . .
 

Harold and Nancy, 1941

Rosalind has finally decided that if she's going to get married she ought to know something about it, so she went and borrowed a Marriage Manual from one of her friends who's already practicing amalgamation of the races. Silliest book I ever read. It says it's for beginners, so we thought it was the right one for us, but ye ghads, where do they think we have been all our lives? "Since the female is more slowly aroused than the male, she must be stimulated by the loveplay, which should precede intercourse. (No!) The erotic senses are centered in the lips, the lobes of the ears--" Blah, blah in ten easy lessons. But we didn’t know all about contraceptives, except that nothing is as good as it's advertised, and the diagrams are lovely. 

I am enclosing $6. The other $5.50 which I still owe you will come after pay day next Tuesday. I haven't a penny to bank this month, but at least I'm holding my own. Also the communication, I mean commutation, ticket. Your India scarf will arrive shortly, too. 

Well, have a Happy Easter and think of my Venetian blinds. 

And Harold liked my suit. (He just better!) 

Love and kisses, 
Nancy 

Copyright 2005 by Curt Taylor