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Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell in New Guinea to sister Eva Lowell in San Francisco.
New Guinea
May 29, 1944Dear Eva,
I started this letter on the 20th inst., had it on my desk for about a week, and finally decided to finish it or bust. This place has transformed me into a very lethargic fellow; at times I do not feel like doing anything at all. Correspondence is quite a mental strain in as far as I have to search for interesting things that I could tell you about; unfortunately there are no news and my descriptions of New Guinea have given you an idea of what I am doing etc., therefore this letter will sound rather incoherent and silly to you. Please consider the circumstances under which I have to carry on my correspondence.
First of all I want to acknowledge and thank you for letters, parcels, and magazines received; the letters were dated April 22, 24, 28, and May 1, 10, 12, 17; I received the March issue of the Readers Digest and also the War Map, which is very good and just the thing I wanted. I enjoyed the Sunday edition of the Chronicle very much. Keep up your patriotic and samaritan activities; such deeds are never appreciated enough, and in my case I think I have acted quite ungratefully and returned your generosity by not writing for over three weeks. Well, that’s what you get for having a brother – what a brother, eh? Joking aside, I do appreciate your faithful letter writing and please forgive my apparent laziness; I shall do my best to remedy this fault. Thank you.
O Kangaroo, O Kangaroo,
Be grateful that you are in the zoo,
And not transmuted by a Boomerang,
To zestful tangy Kangaroo meringue.From the above you can about picture my mental status at present. By the way, there are no kangaroos here, only wallabies which are first cousins to the kangaroo.
I am glad that you heeded my advice in regards to the Standard Oil deal. It does my ego good to see that my sermon impressed you so much. (Yet I cannot help thinking that the pilot was responsible for changing your mind.) Anyway, folly my advice and you’ll get along fine, haha.
Reading the Chronicle I find that I have missed a lot of good shows; well, I’ll make up for lost time when I get back. How was the Beethoven Festival? Did you see “Sons of Fun” yet? That must be quite a riot. As much as I dislike San Francisco I’d give anything to be there right now.
A great discussion is going on right now about the possible length of this war. One says it will last another four years, another thinks that this will be over by next Christmas, and others stay undecided and disgusted. I don’t know whether I should feel optimistic or pessimistic. I think I’d better be optimistic, don’t you?
I have finally found a chess partner; at last my thinking muscles are getting good exercise. Of course, you can imagine that I get brighter and sharper every day.
I haven’t been getting much mail lately and I feel a bit downhearted right now; I suppose next week I’ll get all the letters that have accumulated for the past two weeks.
You mentioned that you were looking for a new place to live in. Did you finally get sick of your landlady’s menagerie of reptiles and mice? If you see her tell her that if she should be looking for any more species for her collection, to come to New Guinea. She would love it.
Where are you and Paul going to find an apartment, with the present housing difficulty in San Francisco? It would be a good idea, though. Oh boy, what a household that will be!
So the quality of cigarettes in the states is getting worse, is it. I guess we are getting all the good cigarettes, as I haven’t heard any of the fellows complain yet. I have been told by fellows that have been stationed in Australia, that American cigarettes sell as high as one pound ($3.22) per carton. (Black Market, of course.) Australians go hog-wild over our cigarettes; if I should ever go on a furlough I’ll take a couple of cartons with me to trade for milk, which is getting rationed now in Australia. I do miss my daily half-gallon of cow juice, believe me.
Here is a little story about Australia. An American soldier was riding on a very slow train somewhere in Australia; the train traveled at such a slow pace that the Yank stuck his head out of the window and angrily shouted at the engineer: “Do you know what we would do with such a train in the U.S.?” The Aussie cynically replied: “You’d probably eat it, drink it, or put it in a family way.” (You can see what reputation the Yanks have in Australia.)
You are mistaken if you think that I have transferred to different surroundings; my new place is right next to my old outfit – the same mosquitoes, bugs, snakes, rats, and mud as before.
Did you have a nice birthday party? I am glad you liked my birthday address – heartwarming, wasn’t it?
Believe it or not, despite the abundance of coconuts here, I have not eaten one for three months; I wish I could send you a few. (Oh well, it’s a good thing that I cannot, because they are rather fattening, anyhow.)
I have been seeing pretty good pictures lately: Coney Island, Rosie O’Grady, Tennessee Johnson, Adventures of Mark Twain, and some others. Did you see that picture “Mayerling” with Charles Boyer and Danielle Darrieux? I have been told that it is very charming.
I say old sweetheart, how about sending me a picture of you? Your only brother yearns for a look at your face; I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t recognize you when I get back. It seems that I have been away for a long time – it’s only a year – yet I feel like an old man. (Silly, isn’t it?) (It isn’t, though.)
How is Paul getting along? How is Hilda and the rest of the family?
There is another argument going on right now; it is quite noisy and I had to interrupt this letter to participate in the discussion on world peace etc. I should know better than to get involved in arguments. We haven’t arrived at any settlement yet so I am going back to writing my letter. (They are still arguing.)
This is going to be the last page; I think I am going to have a tough time to fill this page. Anyway, I have written a considerably long letter.
The discussion is still going on and is interfering with my thoughts; in spite of my efforts to concentrate, the noise of the argument makes it impossible for me to think straight. Why do people argue about things they know little or nothing about?
It is quite late now and I’ll be going to bed very soon. FLASH! The argument is still in full blast. UNFLASH. I am signing off now and will continue tomorrow morning.
Last night’s debate didn’t get anybody anywhere, because the two principal speakers could not agree; as a matter of fact they wound up calling each other names.
This is a rather dreary morning – blue Monday in New Guinea – and I have not snapped out of my sleepiness yet.
Say, I have to ask you another favor, beloved sister; will you kindly send me a couple of inexpensive fountain pens? My very good $1 pen mysteriously disappeared and it is impossible to replace it here. Thank you.
Well old girl, this is all I am going to write today. I hope you find a place very soon and I look forward to taste your delicious cooking. It won’t be long now – another two or three years and “Harry will be coming marching home again, Hurrah, hurrah.”
Give my regards to Paul and also to your friends.
With love,
Harry
Apparently Eva and their cousin Paul Zerzawy planned to get an apartment together. As far as I know, they never did so — my mother was married early the following year. It sounds like finding housing in San Francisco was just as difficult then as it is today.
As I read this letter, I was struck by how often Eva wrote to her brother Harry. While he was writing once in awhile, she was writing at least once a week, much like her mother did from Vienna while that was possible. She often sent care packages, including magazines and newspapers. I found an ad for “Sons of Fun” in the April 2, 1944 edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. Apparently it played on Broadway for three years before making it to the west coast.
Found at San Francisco Chronicle (online), 2 Apr 1944 65 ‹https://infoweb-newsbank-com.ezproxy.sfpl.org/apps/news/document-view?p=AMNEWS&docref=image/v2%3A142051F45F422A02%40EANX-NB-15002BE40B4637D1%402431183-14FF7A5DA81DA76A%4064›
Recently, I looked at the letters my mother sent me in 1978-1979 during my year abroad in France. As with her parents and brother 30 years earlier, she wrote to me at least once a week. Writing letters to a loved one an ocean away must have felt eerily familiar. At least this time a war was not keeping us apart and I had a definite return date. One of my favorite care packages that year came either from my mother or from my closest friends – a Sunday edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. The tradition continued!