February 19, 1934
My dear Gene and Linnet:
It’s very seldom that I write just the two of you, without making the letter all-inclusive for the youngsters. However, this is somewhat of a special letter.
Used as I am to writing copy all day long, inducing people to spend good money for this and for that, I’m out on the edge trying to decide just how to put a proposition up to you. Mother and I have talked it over for months, and we’re afraid that you’re going to say no, just without taking enough time out to think about it.
The story is this: Mother and I have been talking for at least three years of getting one of your kids over to spend the Summer with us during the Fair. Last year the gods that ruled the affairs of our family couldn’t quite provide for it, and so our invitation couldn’t have been made complete. However, we’re back pretty well on the fabled Easy Street. Dad’s income and mine have both been nicely increased, and we’re resting more easily.
Since last Christmas, Mother and I have had a coffee can established as a part of the family, into which we dumped any spare change that was not otherwise provided for. In spite of a little occasional borrowing, there is enough in there to buy one of the new low-rate half fare tickets complete with Pullman round trip Murdo to Chicago. We want Mary to come.
May we have her for two weeks, three weeks – a month or even more, if she doesn’t get homesick?
You are probably deciding against it on the ground that she is just twelve, knows nothing about riding on a railroad train, and would probably have trouble getting through to us. I’ve been bothered about that myself.
I have talked to one of the big men with the Milwaukee Railroad about what could be done. Remembering that my sister Helen and I had both made trips of some length before we had reached the age of twelve, I know well from my own experience the fascination of such a trip. While neither one of us needed any guiding hand, I feel that perhaps Mary should have some one to keep an eye on her. The Milwaukee man said that they have a great many young children travel with them entirely accompanied (the last one being a three-year-old Chinese youngster en route to Honolulu, all alone). If we will give them ten days or two weeks notice, the conductor in charge of the train will be given special orders direct from the General Passenger Agent to watch for Mary, see that she is well taken care of, and insure that the youngster is happy and comfortable all the way through, from the time she steps on one morning till she steps off the next.
In an effort to do my own part to make things seem familiar and natural, I have spent my spare time the last couple of months in writing and illustrating a book for her, showing her – well, the book is already on the way addressed to Linnet. You can see for yourselves just what I have done. After you get through going through its pages of text and illustrations, you’ll want to come along with her yourself.
I am writing this letter on February nineteenth. On or about April the tenth I shall mail it to you, followed in two days by a package addressed to Linnet.
If, when this package arrives, you have not made up your minds whether or not to let Mary come, open the package and go through the contents. You will find that there is a birthday letter for Mary, and this book I have written for her. The letter (written last year for her birthday) will arrive a year late, and will invite her to come to visit us and see the Fair. She can come when she wishes, and stay just as long as her heart desires. We want to keep her all summer. But homesickness might cut it short. That we’ll have to see.
Her ticket will be all arranged for. The agent at Murdo will have his instructions straight from Chicago to deliver to Mary a round trip ticket and secure pullman lower berth clear through for her. Everything will be taken care of from this end.
There is only one thing that requires explanation. Not having seen even a picture of Mary for several years, I can’t guess the youngster’s size. I am banking on it that she can pass for “almost twelve”. This is but postponing the birthday about four months.
Mother and I both want to do for one of your youngsters what you two did for me those summers when I was growing up. You will probably never realize the full measure of fun I had in those months with you. To a city boy, whose knowledge of the country was sketchy, it was a real education. Even now, in writing copy for farm papers for our clients, I think how you on the ranch would look at those things.
We have decided to ask Mary for several reasons. First, it is a little easier for us to accomodate a girl. Second, she can still make it on the reduced half fare rate. Third, Buddy is still a little too young to go about travelling on his own.
We have no set program for her stay here. But we shall try, all of us, to see that before she gets to go home she will have seen every one of the things that goes to make up a great city. She shall go through our zoos and our movies. We’ll do the Fair from top to bottom. She’ll ride the elevated and the street cars to her heart’s content. She’ll stand on the top of every tall building in town. If weather and circumstances permit, the two of us will take a trip on one of the big lake boats on Lake Michigan possibly to Milwaukee or to one of the Eastern Michigan lake ports, spending an entire day afloat on our inland sea. Mother and she will shop in all the big stores, and at night Mary and I will look up anything unusual we can find.
Our most earnest hope is that you will let her come. When you have seen the book that is already on its way to you, and you realize that every preparation has been made to insure a happy and comfortable train trip for the child, you will, we hope, let her come.
There should be no worry in your minds about the train trip. While I won’t take time to go into the details, every possible thing has and will be done to take her from your arms to ours automatically. We shall make it impossible for her to leave the train until the conductor himself turns her over to me here in the Union Station. But that is a detail.
Talk it over among yourselves. If you decide to let her come, all you need to do is place the letter for Mary at her plate the morning of her birthday, and let her have all the fun of anticipating. However, this is a secret, you know. No fair telling till the great day arrives!
Mother and I will be “sitting on pins and needles” till we hear from you.
Much love to you both -
Glen
