Dear Mother and Dad,
Received your letter today. I have been wondering what your answer would be. From all indications, I think I will be justified by getting into something now before I am drafted. I had the plant officials draw up my termination papers last night. Friday will be my last day with good old Lockheed. I hate to leave but then can't get sentimental at a more-or-less critical point in my destination.
I know three or four fellows--very good men--the type you would think Lockheed would want to keep--that have been classified 1-A subject to call within the next month. Whether the company has tried to keep them or the draft board has just taken them now one knows, but thinks the draft commission has just taken them.
Haven't made up my mind what I would like to get into. When I quit I told the officials that I was going to have my eyes remedied and try to get into the Air Corps.. At any rate, I would like to get where I could get a commission. We'll discuss it when I get home.
Last night I talked with the supervisor after we went over my tool card--the list of tools I have got out. I asked him if Lockheed would give me a letter of recommendation. He said that they didn't give them, but would always have a record of my work which would serve as a reference. Later, back at my post, my lead-man told me that I had gotten one of the highest recommendations Lockheed gives a man. Now I am bragging and above all, don't expect you to believe it.
Am getting my belongings together and I am afraid I will have to ship some of them home in a box. If I do, I will send them Thursday or Friday. wanted to leave here Saturday sometime. Will let you know my departure and arrival--- Love Tom
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Newspaper Clipping sent home with February 4 letter
Newspaper clipping Tom sent home:
War Factory Workers Face Army Draft
Southland Defense Industries Must Recruit 75,000 From Ranks of Exempt and Women
Seventy-three per cent of the men now working in war plants are of draft age, and those under 25 "may well expect to be put into uniforms" in the very near future.
And since war production industries in Los Angeles and the Southland will require the services of men over and under the draft ages, and women.
These and other vital points were made yesterday by David T. Babcock, chairman, and Burt Harnish, executive officer, of the Area Labor Supply Committee, at a manufacturing and industrial group luncheon at the Chamber of Commerce.
"REQUEST" FIRST MOVE
"The time is near." declared Babcock, "when it may become necessary to take skilled workers from non defense industries and place them in war production plants.
"I expect the first move will be in the form of a "request". If compliance is not satisfactory, stronger methods may be used, such as an all-out labor priority program."
Referring to the large percentage of draft-age men working in war industries, he commented: "Until the present, the defense plants have been getting the "cream of the crop" and leaving the Army the remainder. This is to be reversed."
Industry must begin training men over 36, and women, to take the places of these men who are inducted into the armed forces, he added.
"California's laws relative to women working are causing us some trouble" he continued. "These must be relaxed, at least for this emergency. We do not want to bread down social gains, on a permanent basis.
"At present, the laws are that women cannot be worked more than eight hours a day, and must be paid time and one-half if employed between 11 p. m. and 6 a. m."
He suggested that these laws be waived, for the duration, in plants where war production is carried on, exclusively.
"We are up against it," he declared. "Governor Olson refused absolutely to put anything referring to labor in the special session call of the State Legislature."
Springing up of war production units throughout the nation, resulting in high-pay employment, is a serious threat to agriculture, Harnish remarked.
"Shortage of tires is another factor," he added. "The migrant farm worker will hot be able to cover the country as in former times."
Recommendation that the Federal Government relax to some extent the rigid requirements for birth certificates for war plant workers was agreed upon at the meeting.
Age limitations and physical requirements are gradually being made less exacting, as the demand for labor becomes more acute, the officials declared.
February 4, 1942
Dear Mother and Dad,
Here is the letter that I promised I would write Sun. Sorry--I can still remember what I did over the weed-end, though, so will do my best to tell you about it. I just finished my after dinner walk, listening to Bob Hope, and eating my apple for the day--feel like a caged mountain lion with night and darkness as my barrier. Say, what kind of talk is that?
Now for the news: Sat. night the boys came over about eight O'clock. We settled in my room and took the bull by the horns--"slung the bull"--for about two hours. At ten, imaginations exhausted, we decided to go over to Hollywood and see Whitlock. Strange enough he was home--we talked, again, and played poker. I lost ninety cents--and then, at quarter to twelve or so, we went out and got something to eat and took in a midnight show. I spent the remainder of the morning with "Whitty".
Sun., back home with the boys at 404, events begun about three. We all piled into the twins car and went out to dinner. Nelson and I ate frogs legs which upset our stomach for the day. We rode out to the ocean and took a look at the waves we had been reading so much about in the papers and then came home. Some of the boys went out again, I read the paper and talked with the older folks down stairs--came up to my room--read the funnies--slept--and then went to work.
This letter isn't going to ramble on like this any longer--I hope. Since I haven't been able to do any studying, I have been giving my future some serious thought. My conclusion is simple, and I think, best. I am going to come home to register--quit my job--spend some time at home--and then enlist in something. I am sending a clipping which will give you some idea of the position of the defense worker. Boys are being drafted from the plant now. By quiting my job and coming home, I think I can get into a good phase of the Army. At any rate, I don't want to be drafted as a private in the rear ranks. I have talked to too many privates.
This is probably a startling bit of news, but, I think, as I said before, it will be best. It isn't a spur of the moment, impulsive, idea. I have genuinely and seriously considered it for some time.
Think I will run down stairs and steal another apple. Write soon and tell me what you think. I don't think I am making a mistake. Love, Tom
P.S. I tore the top of the other sheet turning my paper. I had to copy my letter over or do I have to tell you that I did.
Here is the letter that I promised I would write Sun. Sorry--I can still remember what I did over the weed-end, though, so will do my best to tell you about it. I just finished my after dinner walk, listening to Bob Hope, and eating my apple for the day--feel like a caged mountain lion with night and darkness as my barrier. Say, what kind of talk is that?
Now for the news: Sat. night the boys came over about eight O'clock. We settled in my room and took the bull by the horns--"slung the bull"--for about two hours. At ten, imaginations exhausted, we decided to go over to Hollywood and see Whitlock. Strange enough he was home--we talked, again, and played poker. I lost ninety cents--and then, at quarter to twelve or so, we went out and got something to eat and took in a midnight show. I spent the remainder of the morning with "Whitty".
Sun., back home with the boys at 404, events begun about three. We all piled into the twins car and went out to dinner. Nelson and I ate frogs legs which upset our stomach for the day. We rode out to the ocean and took a look at the waves we had been reading so much about in the papers and then came home. Some of the boys went out again, I read the paper and talked with the older folks down stairs--came up to my room--read the funnies--slept--and then went to work.
This letter isn't going to ramble on like this any longer--I hope. Since I haven't been able to do any studying, I have been giving my future some serious thought. My conclusion is simple, and I think, best. I am going to come home to register--quit my job--spend some time at home--and then enlist in something. I am sending a clipping which will give you some idea of the position of the defense worker. Boys are being drafted from the plant now. By quiting my job and coming home, I think I can get into a good phase of the Army. At any rate, I don't want to be drafted as a private in the rear ranks. I have talked to too many privates.
This is probably a startling bit of news, but, I think, as I said before, it will be best. It isn't a spur of the moment, impulsive, idea. I have genuinely and seriously considered it for some time.
Think I will run down stairs and steal another apple. Write soon and tell me what you think. I don't think I am making a mistake. Love, Tom
P.S. I tore the top of the other sheet turning my paper. I had to copy my letter over or do I have to tell you that I did.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
February 1, 1942
Dear Mother and Dad,
Received your swell letters this week. Quit bragging about the snow and cold weather. In this tropical climate it makes me home-sick for my boards and boots. Sorry I haven't written sooner. Have been threatening to every night this week. Here it is my dead line for clearing the week so nothing can stop me now.
Wed., when I received your letters, I got up and started to write. When I completed the first line, Andy came bounding in and said "What the H--- are you doing up? How would you like to ride down to the ship yards with me while I pick up some plans?" The next thing I new I had on my cleaner shirt and was riding south enjoying the weather and the sunshine---the first time I had seen it this week. I planned to write the letter after dinner.
We drove through ten miles of oil fields and over rolling green hills. The scenery was beautiful but marred by the stench of the oil. From the tops of the higher hills you could see the ocean. The color combination of the green hills, the pale blue sky, and the deep blue ocean was a contrast of colors--artistic grandeur. However, I wouldn't like to see such a color scheme in clothing or the likes. Andy was driving about seventy and eighty miles an hour and we reached Los Angeles harbor in short order.
The stench of oil was soon quenched by that of fish and the smell of production and dust. We started up the harbor from the western end. We weren't over five hundred feet from the waters edge at any time--we saw L.A. ship yards, Consolidated, and California ship. The weighs--the forms the ships are built in before they are launched--settled practically the entire harbor front. Men looked like ants or flies working around the huge cranes and mammoth weighs. The streets in that area are, bustling with activity and the little towns look like boom towns. When we left, we got caught in the shift change--four O'clock--and were swept from the harbor district to L.A.--thirty miles away--in forty five minutes. At five thirty we were home. Instead of writing to you after dinner I went to bed to rest my eyes and go to work a bundle of energy.
My eyes have been feeling better since I stopped reading at night. I manage to read something every night but only a paragraph at a time. Went bowling one night last week with some of the boys from the plant; had a lot of fun but can't say much for my score. From the bowling alleys we went directly to work on the side. Have been making good record since my butch and have now got a crew as fast as any on the graveyard. The boys aren't quite sure of themselves yet but they seem to understand what they are doing. With a little prompting from their instructor they manage to get out two skins a night--the quota. Now I'm bragging again. Starting last night I got a four cent raise per hr. and am now classified as a junior craftsmen. Still bragging.
Tonight is my night off. I got up at three this afternoon determined to write. I picked up my laundry while I was having my room cleaned, got a bite to eat, and helped the Landlord fix a leaky pipe on the bathroom basin. Haven't made any plans for tonight but intend to do something. A couple of the boys from the basement I run around with occasionally, are coming up and, I think, we are going ice skating. Dinner is ready and I think it is rabbit. Will drop another line tomorrow and tell you about tonight. Am in a writing mood. Maybe I ought to try writing a story. Oh yes, I balanced my books today for the year "41" and am out fifty cents, so I chalked it up to depreciation. I made seven hundred and forty six dollars for the year, lacking four dollars of the minimum requirement for taxation. Am being paged for dinner. Love, Tom
Received your swell letters this week. Quit bragging about the snow and cold weather. In this tropical climate it makes me home-sick for my boards and boots. Sorry I haven't written sooner. Have been threatening to every night this week. Here it is my dead line for clearing the week so nothing can stop me now.
Wed., when I received your letters, I got up and started to write. When I completed the first line, Andy came bounding in and said "What the H--- are you doing up? How would you like to ride down to the ship yards with me while I pick up some plans?" The next thing I new I had on my cleaner shirt and was riding south enjoying the weather and the sunshine---the first time I had seen it this week. I planned to write the letter after dinner.
We drove through ten miles of oil fields and over rolling green hills. The scenery was beautiful but marred by the stench of the oil. From the tops of the higher hills you could see the ocean. The color combination of the green hills, the pale blue sky, and the deep blue ocean was a contrast of colors--artistic grandeur. However, I wouldn't like to see such a color scheme in clothing or the likes. Andy was driving about seventy and eighty miles an hour and we reached Los Angeles harbor in short order.
The stench of oil was soon quenched by that of fish and the smell of production and dust. We started up the harbor from the western end. We weren't over five hundred feet from the waters edge at any time--we saw L.A. ship yards, Consolidated, and California ship. The weighs--the forms the ships are built in before they are launched--settled practically the entire harbor front. Men looked like ants or flies working around the huge cranes and mammoth weighs. The streets in that area are, bustling with activity and the little towns look like boom towns. When we left, we got caught in the shift change--four O'clock--and were swept from the harbor district to L.A.--thirty miles away--in forty five minutes. At five thirty we were home. Instead of writing to you after dinner I went to bed to rest my eyes and go to work a bundle of energy.
My eyes have been feeling better since I stopped reading at night. I manage to read something every night but only a paragraph at a time. Went bowling one night last week with some of the boys from the plant; had a lot of fun but can't say much for my score. From the bowling alleys we went directly to work on the side. Have been making good record since my butch and have now got a crew as fast as any on the graveyard. The boys aren't quite sure of themselves yet but they seem to understand what they are doing. With a little prompting from their instructor they manage to get out two skins a night--the quota. Now I'm bragging again. Starting last night I got a four cent raise per hr. and am now classified as a junior craftsmen. Still bragging.
Tonight is my night off. I got up at three this afternoon determined to write. I picked up my laundry while I was having my room cleaned, got a bite to eat, and helped the Landlord fix a leaky pipe on the bathroom basin. Haven't made any plans for tonight but intend to do something. A couple of the boys from the basement I run around with occasionally, are coming up and, I think, we are going ice skating. Dinner is ready and I think it is rabbit. Will drop another line tomorrow and tell you about tonight. Am in a writing mood. Maybe I ought to try writing a story. Oh yes, I balanced my books today for the year "41" and am out fifty cents, so I chalked it up to depreciation. I made seven hundred and forty six dollars for the year, lacking four dollars of the minimum requirement for taxation. Am being paged for dinner. Love, Tom
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
January 24, 1942
Dear Mother and Dad,
As usual, just finished dinner, but tonight I didn't just sit around the dinner table after the meal in the regular bull session. I walked up to the grocery store and got my check cashed. When I got back the session was still in full swing, I joined it, made plans for tomorrow night, which consist of calling on a sick friend of Andy's just now got settled in my room for the evening--eight thirty.
And, also as usual, there isn't any news to speak of outside of the war. This sick friend that I mentioned, is a girl friend of Andy's. She had her appendix removed. I mentioned the fact that we ought to go and cheer her up. Andy took me seriously, so that is what we will do. She is an old school girl chum of his and doesn't know many people in L.A.
I have been wondering lately if you ever hear anything from Bud Christensen. I don't know his address, and would appreciate it very much if you would phone her father or m other and get it for me. Would like to hear from the "rum-dum".
It has taken me exactly two hours to write this letter so far. I wrote the first paragraph and then I listened to "Gang Busters." During the program Big Bill and Tom came in. After the program we chatted for awhile and then went out and got a malt. When we got back we listened to the news and then I started my letter--again. Judging from this letter I am doing nothing but sitting around. To tell the truth that is about all I have been doing for the past week. I went to a doctor last week to see about my eyes. Up to that time they were blood-shot, and when I used them for reading and the likes they made my head ache. About the only thing I have been able to do this week to keep y head from aching at the plant, is just sit, talk and rest my eyes. Am getting tired of just sitting but I guess I can stand it for a while, anyway. If I don't shut up you will think I am going blind. It isn't bad, just boring.
Have got to write a letter to the school tonight and tell them why I haven't sent a lesson in for the past two weeks. I do answer a few questions or read a few pages, though, each night. It's still warm and sunny in this country, and it makes you feel great. Write soon. Love, Tom
As usual, just finished dinner, but tonight I didn't just sit around the dinner table after the meal in the regular bull session. I walked up to the grocery store and got my check cashed. When I got back the session was still in full swing, I joined it, made plans for tomorrow night, which consist of calling on a sick friend of Andy's just now got settled in my room for the evening--eight thirty.
And, also as usual, there isn't any news to speak of outside of the war. This sick friend that I mentioned, is a girl friend of Andy's. She had her appendix removed. I mentioned the fact that we ought to go and cheer her up. Andy took me seriously, so that is what we will do. She is an old school girl chum of his and doesn't know many people in L.A.
I have been wondering lately if you ever hear anything from Bud Christensen. I don't know his address, and would appreciate it very much if you would phone her father or m other and get it for me. Would like to hear from the "rum-dum".
It has taken me exactly two hours to write this letter so far. I wrote the first paragraph and then I listened to "Gang Busters." During the program Big Bill and Tom came in. After the program we chatted for awhile and then went out and got a malt. When we got back we listened to the news and then I started my letter--again. Judging from this letter I am doing nothing but sitting around. To tell the truth that is about all I have been doing for the past week. I went to a doctor last week to see about my eyes. Up to that time they were blood-shot, and when I used them for reading and the likes they made my head ache. About the only thing I have been able to do this week to keep y head from aching at the plant, is just sit, talk and rest my eyes. Am getting tired of just sitting but I guess I can stand it for a while, anyway. If I don't shut up you will think I am going blind. It isn't bad, just boring.
Have got to write a letter to the school tonight and tell them why I haven't sent a lesson in for the past two weeks. I do answer a few questions or read a few pages, though, each night. It's still warm and sunny in this country, and it makes you feel great. Write soon. Love, Tom
Friday, September 4, 2009
January 20, 1942
Dear Mother and Dad,
Just finished dinner and getting my laundry. I started the new week out with a bang and a butch. One of the new fellows that I neglected to watch, for about ten seconds, drilled a hole next to a jig hole--the jug holes are the mating holes or the holes used to bolt the entire wing together at final assembly. Lat night I was given two more new men to teach. I was tearing my hair because they didn't seem to comprehend a thing that I said. Guess they weren't listening, no doubt. At any rate, I hope and think that I can have them all well trained within a month. Out of the seven men that I am teaching there is really only one that I have been able to rely on so far.
Whity phoned me Sat. night. He is staying in an apartment with two other Salt Lake fellows. He is going back to school and the other two work at Lockheed. He told me that he talked to you while he was home and asked me if I liked my new watch. Sounded like a conspiracy. I was getting set to tell him about it just as he asked. Andy, the engineer and new boy in the house--a swell fellow--and I went over to see the boys. When we came home we raided the ice box, and then tucked in, but not until we had read the funny papers.
Sun. morn at the breakfast table Andy asked me if I wanted to go see a couple of old maids with him. I was feeling chipper upon seeing the sun for the first time in a week, so I said that I would enjoy visiting with some of his friends. They turned out to be old maids all right but they were also marvelous company. They are the type that you meet in the skiing areas--hospitable and friendly. One of them is a nurse, second lieutenant, in the Army and the other is in the advertising game. The one in advertising, is connected with the sales department in a department store here. We discussed advertising, and I pinned her ears back a couple of times, concerning mediums and illustrations. She laughed and wanted to know where I got all of my information. I told her and then leaned back and listened while she told me about her job. Andy finished talking to them and we left. We ate, and then came home. I sat around until the sun went down and then went to bed.
Have got to get busy now. Have got to write Vandy a letter, and the fellow who lived here and joined the Army about two months ago, or rather the fellow who got drafted. I feel great and will write soon. Love, Tom
P.S. Got another lesson back today. My grade was a B.
Just finished dinner and getting my laundry. I started the new week out with a bang and a butch. One of the new fellows that I neglected to watch, for about ten seconds, drilled a hole next to a jig hole--the jug holes are the mating holes or the holes used to bolt the entire wing together at final assembly. Lat night I was given two more new men to teach. I was tearing my hair because they didn't seem to comprehend a thing that I said. Guess they weren't listening, no doubt. At any rate, I hope and think that I can have them all well trained within a month. Out of the seven men that I am teaching there is really only one that I have been able to rely on so far.
Whity phoned me Sat. night. He is staying in an apartment with two other Salt Lake fellows. He is going back to school and the other two work at Lockheed. He told me that he talked to you while he was home and asked me if I liked my new watch. Sounded like a conspiracy. I was getting set to tell him about it just as he asked. Andy, the engineer and new boy in the house--a swell fellow--and I went over to see the boys. When we came home we raided the ice box, and then tucked in, but not until we had read the funny papers.
Sun. morn at the breakfast table Andy asked me if I wanted to go see a couple of old maids with him. I was feeling chipper upon seeing the sun for the first time in a week, so I said that I would enjoy visiting with some of his friends. They turned out to be old maids all right but they were also marvelous company. They are the type that you meet in the skiing areas--hospitable and friendly. One of them is a nurse, second lieutenant, in the Army and the other is in the advertising game. The one in advertising, is connected with the sales department in a department store here. We discussed advertising, and I pinned her ears back a couple of times, concerning mediums and illustrations. She laughed and wanted to know where I got all of my information. I told her and then leaned back and listened while she told me about her job. Andy finished talking to them and we left. We ate, and then came home. I sat around until the sun went down and then went to bed.
Have got to get busy now. Have got to write Vandy a letter, and the fellow who lived here and joined the Army about two months ago, or rather the fellow who got drafted. I feel great and will write soon. Love, Tom
P.S. Got another lesson back today. My grade was a B.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
January 15, 1942
Dear Mother and Dad,
What's this? A letter or rather a Christmas card for me, at home, from L.A.! And from a girl too! I didn't know she cared. Will have to phone her and thank her. Thanks for sending it down to me. Guess I had better tell you who she is. The girl is Whity's cousin, a former Salt Laker. Every time I used to go over and see Jack she was usually there, so what else? I got friendly with her and one night Jack got one of his best girls and I got his cousin and we went to a show. Will have to put her name on next years or rather this years list.
Les, the former Salt Lake fellow that I think I told you about in one of my first letters, who moved down here about four years ago with his parents, is going in the Army next week. I just talked to him over the phone and he is going to come over about five thirty. He wants to talk to me about the Ski Patrol. He says if he can't get the type of job that he wants in the regular Army--an office job to keep up his office training--he is going to try to, later, transfer into the S.P. He says if he has to go rugged, he wants to do it up right.
Have got a confession to make, but a darn good excuse for having to make it. Last night I didn't go to work. Mon. I started riding to work with a fellow that gets his sleeping done in the evening just before going to work. Well, last night he didn't show up. At quarter to twelve--the time he should have picked me up--he didn't show. At twelve, the same, and so on until twelve forty five--the dead-line for getting into the plant. I was raving to think that he was so incorrigible not to phone. About the time my anger had reached its peak, I herd him honking out front. I went down stairs and outside, calming myself as I went, and told him he might as well go home and go to bed. He apologized and said his alarm didn't go off. He was so sympathetic I couldn't help but excuse him. We talked for about ten minutes and then I came back in and resumed reading a book that I recently bought on advertising. I phoned the plant and they excused me, so I guess no harm was done. And I don't think it will hurt my record--at least it shouldn't.
That tear at the top of the page if from the sight bars on my typewriter. About two out of every five letters that I write, that usually happens.
Well, that's about all the news for the week. am having a lot of fun and up against a tough lesson. It's taking me over my schedule. Hope to get it done this week-end. Write soon-as if I had to tell you. Love, Tom
What's this? A letter or rather a Christmas card for me, at home, from L.A.! And from a girl too! I didn't know she cared. Will have to phone her and thank her. Thanks for sending it down to me. Guess I had better tell you who she is. The girl is Whity's cousin, a former Salt Laker. Every time I used to go over and see Jack she was usually there, so what else? I got friendly with her and one night Jack got one of his best girls and I got his cousin and we went to a show. Will have to put her name on next years or rather this years list.
Les, the former Salt Lake fellow that I think I told you about in one of my first letters, who moved down here about four years ago with his parents, is going in the Army next week. I just talked to him over the phone and he is going to come over about five thirty. He wants to talk to me about the Ski Patrol. He says if he can't get the type of job that he wants in the regular Army--an office job to keep up his office training--he is going to try to, later, transfer into the S.P. He says if he has to go rugged, he wants to do it up right.
Have got a confession to make, but a darn good excuse for having to make it. Last night I didn't go to work. Mon. I started riding to work with a fellow that gets his sleeping done in the evening just before going to work. Well, last night he didn't show up. At quarter to twelve--the time he should have picked me up--he didn't show. At twelve, the same, and so on until twelve forty five--the dead-line for getting into the plant. I was raving to think that he was so incorrigible not to phone. About the time my anger had reached its peak, I herd him honking out front. I went down stairs and outside, calming myself as I went, and told him he might as well go home and go to bed. He apologized and said his alarm didn't go off. He was so sympathetic I couldn't help but excuse him. We talked for about ten minutes and then I came back in and resumed reading a book that I recently bought on advertising. I phoned the plant and they excused me, so I guess no harm was done. And I don't think it will hurt my record--at least it shouldn't.
That tear at the top of the page if from the sight bars on my typewriter. About two out of every five letters that I write, that usually happens.
Well, that's about all the news for the week. am having a lot of fun and up against a tough lesson. It's taking me over my schedule. Hope to get it done this week-end. Write soon-as if I had to tell you. Love, Tom
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)