Epistles from Pap: Letters from the man known as 'The Will Rogers of Indiana'
Epistles from Pap: Letters from the man known as 'The Will Rogers of Indiana' by Andrew Everett Durham
Epistles from Pap: Letters from the man known as 'The Will Rogers of Indiana' by Andrew Everett Durham
As a boy of 17, Pap was considered somewhat wayward by his strict Kentucky-bred mother, after being caught hanging around the local pool parlor. He was also out of favor with his father for daring to criticize the latter's rather conservative attire. So to help him "straighten out" and prepare to become a useful citizen, he was sent to Western Military Academy, Upper Alton, Illinois, in 1899. He graduated from that institution with high grades, but the endeavor to reform him was nevertheless only partly successful.
Enrolling at "Old Asbury" (DePauw University, Greencastle), he promptly got in trouble with the Methodist administration for organizing a dance at "The Delts," his fraternity house. About to be suspended, he beat the administration to the punch by transferring to Indiana University, where he went on to undergraduate and law degrees.
Pap subsequently met and fell in love with Aura May Sawyer (better known as "Munny" to the family). The couple eventually married and Grandfather Sawyer gave them a generous start in life by financing a house in Greencastle, but not before being satisfied with Pap's credit-worthiness.
FIRST TASTE OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD
(Pap's earliest surviving letters were written at Western
Military Academy, Upper Alton, Illinois, the first to Mitch
Taylor, a Civil War veteran, the other to his mother.)
Upper Alton, Ill.
March 9, 1899
Dear Uncle Mitch, I am over here in Illinois going to the Military Academy. This is the damndest place I ever got into. They are terrible strict. They make me get up at a certain time in the morning (6:30) and have the meals at a certain time. They make us go to bed at 9:00 and have the lights out at a quarter after nine. If we do anything wrong we have to carry guns and walk. For smoking the penalty is five hours hard walking. If we wear a dirty collar we have to walk an hour. They make us have our rooms unlocked so that they can come in at any time. They require us to make our own beds and if they are not just right they report us and that means two hours walking. This is a damn sight harder than ground- hog hunting. How I wish I was back. . .
Don't forget our spree down the creek next summer. While I was writing just now I heard the whistle of the steamboat on the Mississippi. We hear several every morning. . . From what I know now I shall be home about June 7 or 8 and we will get right to work on the boats. Yours Truly, Andrew E. Durham
Upper Alton, Ill.
April 6, 1899
Dear Mother, After going to so much trouble to get a declamation it is not going to do me any good. Instead of having a preliminary contest in which we all could speak and then having some good elocutionist decide those who were the best speakers, the teachers here allowed each fellow to vote for anyone he pleased and the three boys getting the highest number of votes were elected to speak. . . And I cannot even get to try. . . There was nothing fair about the thing at all. . . You see, all the officers here work for each other. . . They just got up and nominated each other and that was all there was to it. It is very hard on me coming in at the middle of the year and have just barely gotten acquainted. Nearly all of the Senior Class are officers and I am a private, and being as there are so many officers it is nearly impossible for a private to get anything.
But there is one thing that I didn't get left in and that was Scholarship. They have here what they call the Upper Ten. That is the ten students who have the highest grades in the whole school. These ten get their names put in the school publication. I was fourth on the list of ten out of 84 scholars, and first in the senior class . . . My general average was 95 percent.
Are you taking care of my shotgun? Have you had it cleaned out?
Where is it? . . .
HELP THE KIDS START OUT BUT DON'T HURRY THEM
(Andrew and Aura May Sawyer had a prolonged engagement. The reason becomes clearer upon reading this letter, written surreptitiously by Pap's future father-in-law, F. P. Sawyer, of Muscatine, Iowa, to Pap's father, James V. Durham, in Greencastle. This is not one of Pap's own letters, but is interesting nevertheless for what it says about family values).
Muscatine, Iowa
February 17, 1909
J.V. Durham
Greencastle, Ind.
Dear Sir: I suppose as is quite natural, you are giving some thought to the approaching happiness of Andrew, as we are to that of Aura May; so you will understand my motive in writing you direct, and without the knowledge of either Aura May or Andrew. . .
I think you probably know our suggestion as to building a moderate house to rent to them, but as we have never boiled it down to exact conditions (only the general idea), you may not understand just what we contemplate.
You are unquestionably as mindful of what your son does, as we are as to ours; but the boys are expected to "look out for themselves" more than the girls; yet had it not been for my father's help, both as to judgment and moderately financially in the way of a gift at majority and loans to help me start (which I later repaid) I would not have been able to succeed or don't think I would-as I have. And the gift of $500 after the wedding from my father-in-law was not without big appreciation on my part. A few years later, when I was building a moderate home on a lot bought with part of the $500, which my wife had not invested in special furniture, and some I had saved, he gave us $2,000 more to help build the home. I certainly appreciated it, and put the home all in her name. Later, after we moved and it was sold, I returned the money to her and she still has it.
My own experience and observation convinces me that the best time to help young people who show qualities . . . is when it will do them the most good, which I think is when they are starting out, and not after they have slaved along and shown their ability to take care of themselves (though it does often bring out their best qualities quicker, but they don't need the help so much then). I don't mean that one should go so far as to lessen their realization that they must "support themselves", but the first three or four years are hard for young people who have to make it all without some help.
But I don't believe in hurrying such a move. First, they should wait to see if their love for each other promises to be what should exist to insure the desired future, and secondly, 'til they can feel fairly assured that they can be self-supporting or are willing to live as the husband can reasonably afford.
In this generation, what were luxuries to us in younger days are to a degree necessities to those who have been brought up with them, so that the problem is not exactly as it was in the pioneer days, when good health, no debts, a job at $1.25 per day, three economically furnished rooms and enough to pay the preacher were all that were required. . .
I explained to both Aura and Andrew a couple of conditions I thought advisable before I could approve their setting the day. First, satisfaction that they had not, or were not apt to change their minds as to each other, and secondly, that he should have demonstrated his ability to earn or have in sight an income of $1,000 per year. I did not think this high, but wanted them to know they must expect to live economically, and that I expected them to depend on their own resources. The limitation I named was more theoretical than arbitrary, though they both think I still hold to that; but it depends on where they are to live whether this is above or below what they would need for the first year or so. They are becoming restless, and I don't blame them, and to carry out my plans as to a house requires some little time if they want it ready for their first home-as I would like to arrange it if advisable.
This has led me to write you, feeling that you and Mrs. Durham should be consulted, and know just what Mrs. Sawyer and I contemplated, and to have your approval; also that you think they are not taking an unwise step, from your point of view, as you know much better what Greencastle presents as a permanent home for them, and Andrew's present situation, and what he can reasonably expect in the near future. Aura May has various pieces of furniture which have been given her from time to time, and her first piano, which she thinks will be all she needs for awhile. . . so that it is not the original outlay that need perplex them. As to the house, I will try and briefly explain.
I contemplate putting up a seven-room house, with . . . living room.. . . dining room and kitchen for first floor; three bed rooms and bathroom for second and one room finished in attic. They would not furnish the smallest bedroom, but use it for sewing room. . . I don't want to exceed $6,000, including ground, as they don't want to carry a load, and I don't feel that I can tap my estate too heavily when out of business and depending on income only. . . I propose to rent this to them at the rate of $200 for first year, payable monthly if they can do so, and 'til they can from their income increase the rent to bring me equal to 3% per year and taxes and insurance, for a period of five years. . . At the end of five years I would expect they would be able to make it more if I or my estate needed it, or that they would buy it at just what it had actually cost me.
If my estate will permit me to do so at that time, or any earlier time if they wish to buy it, I would expect to give Aura May at least $2,000 of the value. . . In case of my death I would so arrange that the whole investment would go to Aura, as part of her share in any of my estate. . .
I do not expect any guarantee beyond their own ability to do it. So I am not referring the matter to you for any part in it; but so that you may let me know if you feel the plan would be beyond expectations from what you know of matters there, or probability that his position is not calculated to develop so as to be able to keep up his end or remain in Greencastle. I do not know how much he is making now, or if you expect to aid him in any way, and feel that such matters are, and should be, just as a father may be willing, or can afford; and I always feel that parents must first consider each other and the needs for advancing age, no matter how kindly they feel toward their children. . .
But it occurred to me that it was certainly due you that if I calculated on doing anything which might look as if it would directly or indirectly put a burden on Andrew and overload him, you should have an opportunity to judge. . .
Also that you should know what was intended before you might approve such a step and possibly have in mind some plan for them of your own, with which mine might conflict.
Or that perhaps you would advise something different, in which I could cooperate with you. . .
There has been a little hope on their part that there could be a June wedding; but I know they wish to be governed by your and my approval. At least from Aura May's remarks from time to time, I feel that they are perplexed as to whether they would be considered rash or unwise to even set the time at all, particularly as it appears they have not come up to my second stipulation as to his income. I used it about 18 months ago, when he asked for my consent to their engagement, and I have not been asked to change, so I guess they placed more stress on it than I intended; but before I modify it, if that is the greatest barrier, I concluded to write you, as to your approval of my plans, and your judgment.
As a matter of fact, we all know that what it costs a young couple to live all depends on their health and their inclinations. Aura May is exceptionally practical, and with no heavier expense for rent than my plan contemplates I think if Andrew has the prospects of moderate living expenses, it is putting them to rather hard lines if they are waiting to meet my early stipulations.
But I don't want to do anything to hurry them if you feel with your knowledge of conditions there that my plan or their marriage this summer sometime (perhaps as soon as a lot can be secured and house built and ready for them) is not wise. . .
I have read the above to Mrs. Sawyer and she approves my sending
it and joins me in good wishes . . .
Very Sincerely,
F. P. Sawyer
(The reply made by Pap's father is not known, but the house was not built that summer, and the wedding did not take place for almost another two years)
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
Kallie, a mute who had been ignored by her husband for five years since their wedding, also suffered the loss of her pregnancy due to her cruel mother-in-law. After the divorce, she learned that her ex-husband had quickly gotten engaged to the woman he truly loved. Holding her slightly rounded belly, she realized that he had never really cared for her. Determined, she left him behind, treating him as a stranger. Yet, after she left, he scoured the globe in search of her. When their paths crossed once more, Kallie had already found new happiness. For the first time, he pleaded humbly, "Please don't leave me..." But Kallie's response was firm and dismissive, cutting through any lingering ties. "Get lost!"
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
A year into the marriage, Thea rushed home with radiant happiness-she was pregnant. Jerred barely glanced up. "She's back." The woman he'd never let go had returned, and he forgot he was a husband, spending every night at her hospital bed. Thea forced a smile. "Let's divorce." He snapped, "You're jealous of someone who's dying?" Because the woman was terminal, he excused every jab and made Thea endure. When love went cold, she left the papers and stormed off. He locked down the city and caught her at the airport, eyes red, dropping to his knees. "Honey, where are you going with our child?"
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