September 6, 1946
Sorry Dear(?)
Wish you and Luce(?) were here at this hotel – room 1205 – mail us(?) that letter soon. And my hand is some better. Write me here whenever you can.
Love,
Junie(?)
Category: Poems
Hi Folks,
We are vacationing here for a week — high up in the Catskill Mountains. Place is charming and expect to have some good rest so we can go back to working hard at filling(?) up our “home sweet home”. Food is so good it will show on me when we return. How was your vacation?
Do Write,
Elsie and Chad(?)
To: Mr. (or Mrs.) Millman Linn Jr. From: Aunt Emma, 1907
This is our hotel. March 17th.
Aunt Emma
The Chalfonte Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey was built in 1868 near the corner of Pacific and North Carolina Avenues. However, in 1900 it came under new ownership and was expanded. It was the first iron framed hotel in Atlantic City, but maintained the original structure by simply moving it to the west and re-cladding it with brick. It’s this hotel that we see on the front of this postcard.
Interestingly, the hotel was moved closer to the beach twice, because the incoming tides continued to bring sand onto the shore. Part of the appeal of the Chalfonte was both it’s access to the railway and access to the beach. By the time a more sturdy boardwalk was built, the Chalfonte was well positioned to reap the benefits.
Miraculously, I was able to find both Emma and Milman Linn Jr. This was one of those serendipitous Hail Mary sort of finds, as I finally threw “mellman linn jr” into google and an obituary of Milman Linn III popped up. Once I found him, I was able to trace the family line (all of whom lived in Zanesville, Ohio) until I found Emma.
I believe Aunt Emma is the maternal aunt of Milman’s wife, Jennie (Jane) Milman, (nee Smith). Which leads me to believe that this card is actually addressed “Mrs. Milman Linn Jr.” Not “Mr.” Let’s start with Emma and I’ll work my way to the Milmans.
Emma Allen Dodd was born January 11, 1842 in Zanesville, Ohio. In 1884, at the age of 42, she married Robert Hoe Dodd and had two children, though only one survived infancy. She lived to be 85 years old, and died in 1927. She’s buried in New Jersey.
Her niece, Jane (Jennie) Smith, was born June 12, 1870. She married Milman Linn Jr in June of 1900. Something that’s wonderful about Family Search is that on occasion, the family has done their own research, or left their own memories for the deceased. This particular recollection was left and I couldn’t help but quote it here:
Jane Davey Smith Linn was ironing on the main floor, or the maid was, when a rat was heard gnawing at something in the cellar. She gathered an arsenal of croquet balls and surprised the rat by entering from the outside steps. How a woman unaccustomed to athletics managed to throw a wooden ball hard enough or straight enough to knock out a rat, is difficult to imagine. But she did just that, either stunning the rat or badly maiming it, and immediately finished it at closer range with a broom handle. Her son Vincent expressed grave concern over the contaminated croquet balls, but Jane assured him she would wash them in scalding water.
It’s stories like these that breathe life into the subjects of our postcards, and I can imagine the fire Jennie smiling broadly when she received this postcard from her Aunt. Unfortunately, Jennie died young. She passed away in 1911 at the age of 41.
Milman Linn Jr comes from a line of Milman’s. He was born on May 15, 1860 and lived to be 80, dying in 1940. He did not remarry after Jennie, rather two of his sisters came to live with him. Presumably in a symbiotic relationship where they helped him with the house, and he provided for them. Milman was a somewhat prominent pottery manufacturer (according to his obituary) and thus his death warranted a short newspaper article remembrance.
Despite Jennie’s early death, it’s lovely to see a tight knit family who seemed to love each other very much. Also, it’s wild that Emma, Jennie, and Milman were alive either during, or directly after, America’s Civil War. I love being able to uncover the lives of the subjects in my postcards, and I’m so glad to have this Friday find.
To: Mrs. E. Peck From: Mrs. Wanack, 1935
Tues 6, 1935
Driving over this highway to-day it is beautiful thinking of you,
Mrs. Wanack (or Wamack)
In 1935, Franklin D. Roosevelt was president, “Black Sunday”, a devastating storm that ravaged the dust bowl, took place, the WPA (Works Progress Administration) was created, Babe Ruth appeared in his last career game, and the Barker Gang (including Ma Barker) were killed in a shootout with the FBI. Prohibition may have been lifted, but it’s effects were far reaching.
The Multnomah highway and adjoining Benson Bridge were built between 1914-1916. The footbridge shown in the postcard gives up close access to the falls — the second tallest year round falls in the United States — while the highway takes motorists across the creek. It’s one of the most photographed historical structures in Oregon, and it’s easy to see why. Even in black and white the image is breathtaking.
Despite being smack in the middle of the Great Depression, people still had cars, and they still enjoyed driving those cards to see America. From only this postcard, we can’t possibly know if Mrs. Wanack was visiting family, or simply on vacation for fun, but the views she would have seen are clearly breathtaking. It’s also touching that she thought of Mrs. Peck on the bridge.
As often happens when researching, I struggled to find these women. With only last names, it’s fairly impossible. Especially somewhere like Los Angeles. There were a multitude of Pecks, many of them women, so it’s hard to say who was our Mrs. E. Peck. I went through a large number of them, hoping I could find a married sister with the last name that matched or was close to Wanack. Alas, no luck.
I hate not finding a first name for women obscured by their husband’s last name. However, it’s clear the two carried a strong bond of friendship, and at least we can tell that story. May you all find bonds of sisterhood today.
Multnomah Falls, Oregon
To: Miss Carolyn Doran. From: Mary 1908
This is where I go bathing. The water is very cold. With love.
From,
Mary
In 1908, Teddy Roosevelt was president, Harvard business school was established, and a deadly tornado struck parts of Louisiana and Mississippi and left 140 people dead and over 700 injured. We were well into the Progressive Era, and the temperance movement was building. They’d hit their crescendo with Prohibition, but that would be a few years to go yet.
There’s something so sweet and innocent about this postcard. From it’s shaky, childish script, to the fact that Mary talks about how cold the water is when she bathes. It recalls us all to childhood, when our worries were small and our families were close.
Carolyn, and thus Mary, were difficult for me to find. I’m not even positive I did find Carolyn. However, I have something of a lead so that’s what I’ll discuss. The Carolyn Doran I found was born in 1898 in Kansas City, Missouri to Samuel Neal Doran and Mary Nagel Doran. Interestingly, Mary had a sister who also named her daughter Caroline, but with the I not the Y.
I couldn’t find much about Carolyn, other than that it doesn’t seem that she got married or really even moved out of her family house. In the census of 1940, she was 42 and still living with her parents. She had one brother, who I think served in World War I and had a son named Neal Samuel Doran. The names really aren’t that interesting, but I got a kick out of the naming practices in this family. I also had to wonder if Mary and her sister fought over the name Carolyn.
As for Mary…I had hoped to find a family relation. However, if Carolyn is indeed our gal, she would have been ten when this card was written. It was sent in July, which means Mary easily could have been a friend enjoying a summer in Maine.
What’s true is that the card is sweet, loving, and beautiful. It’s a balm for a weary soul, and I think we all need a little bit of that in our lives. I hope Mary and Carolyn remained friends, wherever they ended up in their lives.
“Shore Scene, Casco Bay”
Miss Y. Kassel, 1909
This is from “square” head. Still living but have not much time to knock around.
Holly (on front of card)
November, 1909 was a momentous month in New York. As is often the case, especially in the early 1900’s, tensions amongst the working poor were brewing, and from a faction you may least expect. On November 24, 1909 — so only a few days after Square Head sent her lovely postcard to Miss Kassel — the largest strike in US history up to that point in time took place.
20,000 garment workers, many of them shirt waist factory workers (yes…THAT shirt waist factory, but more on that later), walked out. Their demands were echos of our own: better pay, better hours, safer working conditions, and unionization. History is, of course, cyclical. Because most of the striking workers were women, there was little attention paid to them at first. However, when a few wealthy women joined the cause, factory owners slowly bowed to the women’s demands. Despite resistance and interference from owners, the strike largely worked.
The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, however, was a little different. The owners did provide better wage and better hours, but they stopped short of unionization — which meant a lack of protection for these women. This culminated in the tragic Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in 1911.
Now, it’s impossible to know if Square Head and/or Miss Kassel were part of the garment industries, but they would have known about the strike. If they were women who worked in any sort of industry, which I think it’s safe to say that Square Head probably did seeing as she had not much time to “knock around,” (my new favorite saying, by the way), then it would have impacted them in some way. Remember, this was a time before women could vote, so a strike that garnered better working conditions for them was an important step in the suffrage movement.
Aside from the historical context, there’s so much to love about this postcard. From the moniker “square head” to the rural photos of Hershey Cows (I like to think both ladies loved chocolate), to the hurried greeting.
However, I think one of my favorite things about this particular card, however, is how *human* it feels. The square in “square head” is drawn in such a way that the reader can see the direction her hand took. The reader can also see the mistake in “still”; the “s” covering up whatever was written before. Square Head was probably in a rush, or perhaps her mind was ahead of her hand and she began a sentence she wasn’t quite ready for. Undeterred, she clumsily corrected the mistake and continued on in her quick note to her friend. You see it again in the “c” of knock. It’s something so little, but brings the postcard — and the woman — to life in such a tangible way. I love it.
Front of postcard depicting Hershey cows. You can also see the name “Holly” on the top right corner.
Mrs. William Kerchner: 1943
Pvt. Charles P. Kerchner
Dear Parents:
How are you all. I am O.K. and hope you are the same.
A simple message scrawled quickly in pen on the back of a beautiful postcard opens a door for us to understand a little more about postcard history, as well as World War II history.
When I began this project I knew nothing about the history of postcards in the United States or abroad. I’m still lacking in my historical knowledge, but I’m also learning with each post I create. One simple piece of information I’ve recently stumbled upon are the different “eras” of postcards.
By roughly 1930, “linen” type postcards had begun to circulate. These postcards have a different look and texture than the early 1900’s postcards. In fact, it may suprise you to find out that they look like they are printed on linen (shocking I know). The colors on these postcards also tend to be more vibrant and saturated. This postcard is no different. While the back is somewhat nondescript and not quite as pretty as some of the earlier postcards in my collection, the front is so beautiful it could be framed as a watercolor painting.
I assumed the “free” written in the stamp section had something to do with the fact that this is a soldier sending a postcard home to his family. A brief google search revealed that by World War II, if the soldier wrote his outfit and camp (along with the word “free” in the stamp box), then the postage was comped for him.
Another notable aspect of this postcard is the stamped “GIVE: Red Cross War Fund.” I have a few of these from postcards sent during WWII, but I find them fascinating reminders of a different time.
This is also the first postcard where I feel confident I’ve found some information on the original sender. Private Charles P. Kerchner survived the war, married, raised a family, and died in 2008 at the age of 87.
A lovely piece of history from a bygone era.
Front of postcard. Note the blues and yellows and pinks that serve as the masquerade of a sunset.
To: Mrs. Lydia Mandel. From: Marion 1948
Sammy, has been very ill but is coming along O.K. Gall stone attack.
Marion
*Alternatively, it could say “Sorry have been very ill”, however the following “but is coming along O.K.” changes tense and thus feels incongruous. Therefore, my best guess is that the first word is a name (Sammy, or perhaps Avery).
This may be one of the “later” cards I’ve blogged about, though it’s certainly not the oldest in my collection. However, it was serendipity that I chose this card today.
On July 29, 1948, the Summer Olympics opened in London. This was the first Summer Olympics held since the 1936 games held in Berlin. The fact that the games were held, and in London of all places, indicates that nations were beginning to heal after the devastation of World War II.
Despite the world uniting in sportsmanship, tensions between the United States and Russia were heating up. On July 22, President Truman issued a peacetime draft, and ten communist leaders were arrested under the Alien Registration Act. In fact, the second Red Scare had begun
It’s amidst these conflicting events (sportsmanship and fear mongering) that Sammy (or Avery, or Marion) had a gall attack. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had a gall attack, but if you haven’t — they are awful. I call them the “stabbies” because it’s like a sharp pain entering the space just above your stomach. Nothing helps but time. I’m lucky enough that I’ve only had two or three in my lifetime. I also have the benefit of modern medicine if they get too bad. In 1948, there’s not much to do but wait, and I imagine that time probably crept by at a snail’s pace for the poor patient.
I have no evidence of this, but I imagine that Sammy is a child, Marion the mother, and Lydia the grandmother…or perhaps sister to Marion. Again, there’s nothing that indicates any sort of relationship barring the existing postcard, but in my mind…it’s a multi-generational connection.
I did find a “Lydia Mandel”, who was a Russian artist. However, everything I see indicates she was active in France, so I find it difficult to believe thats our Lydia. The address on the postcard still exists — it’s a quaint apartment in the Bronx. For us, Sammy and Marion and Lydia’s story must therefore end with this card. However, the fifties hadn’t yet begun, and the sixties were a decade away. The coming decades were a time of great inner change and turmoil in the United States.
I guess it was sort of like a gall stone attack in that respect.
Old St. Paul’s Episcopal Church
From: Mary E. Wood, To: Mrs. Ethyl Beranek 1942
4/27/42
Hello.
Roanoke is preparing for blackouts and everyone is cooperating well. Thanks for the card. Do you have L.L. Iowa or other cities? I’d like a card of each scene as shown in little’s CEDAR RAPIDS. Thanks and write soon.
Sincerely,
Mary E. Wood
422 Albemarle Ave S.W.
Roanoke, Virginia
Have you any foreign correspondents?
By the time Mary wrote this letter, the United States had newly entered World War II. A few months earlier, in February, a Japanese submarine had attacked an oil refinery in Santa Barbara, California. Though the attack didn’t cause much damage, fears and tensions in the United States were high. Shortly after the attack on California, FDR signed Executive Order 9066 which led to the internment of 125,000 people, two thirds of which were American Citizens.
In April, the country was already well on its way to mobilizing for war. In preparation, many cities — including Roanoke — were practicing blackouts. The city had practiced at least two blackouts by the time Mary sent her letter to Ethyl. Families bought blackout curtains for their windows and hoods for their headlights. At some point during the blackout, air raid sirens blared and people extinguished lights, pulled over and listened for the test to be over.
The fear of invasion is a type of fear I hope I never have to experience, and to see it documented in this letter is so interesting. Mary expresses prepping for an invasion first, which tells me it was probably at the top of her mind.
However, the wartime blackout conditions are juxtaposed by Mary’s request for different types of postcards. It almost seems like she’s part of some sort of post crossing program before post crossing existed! Or, as we elder millennials remember it as: pen pals. I do wonder if Mary personally knew Ethyl and the two of them were simply card collectors, or if it was a type of pen pal program. Very interesting.
As for Mary Wood, I think I found her. She was born as Mary Ellen Thurston, but her first husband had the last name Wood. She later divorced and remarried, becoming Mary Ellen Truslow. What’s strange is that I found her second marriage certificate, which listed her birthday year as 1927, but her grave and all other documentation lists 1921.
As for Ethyl, funnily enough the first thing that popped up when I searched was another postcard to her. Same address, though a different sender. Wouldn’t that have been the bee’s knees? After a little more digging on Family Search, I managed to ascertain that she probably passed away shortly after World War II — 1953 to be exact.
The obituary states that she had suffered from an “illness for the past year.” Two of her sons died shortly after, one in 1955 and another in 1958. An overall sad end to an interesting postcard.
I hope that the two women remained in correspondence until Ethyl’s untimely death. Perhaps this small blog post can help keep the memory of their connection alive.
Front of Postcard. One of a few Natural Bridge postcards that I own
To: Miss Annie Earl. From: AS(?) 1915
I wish I could send you more than a (unreadable)
In 1915, Woodrow Wilson was president, the United States began it’s occupation of Haiti, the Lusitania was sunk by a German U-Boat, and the United States recognized the new Mexican Government as a de-facto government.
This is one of the few cards I have that’s from a true resort town, and I love the vibes of it all. By 1915, Atlantic City was already a destination city, bringing in over 500,000 people by rail every year. At this time, the boardwalk was over 7 miles long, and an array of large hotels sprawled along the ocean, some capable of holding up to 2,000 guests. I have to assume that the sender of this card was in Atlantic City on vacation, though, of course, they could have been a seasonal worker.
As beautiful as the card is, it’s a tad frustrating because there’s simply not much information. The last word is illegible (for me), and even the sender’s signature is nothing more than scrawled initials. I do have the name “Annie Earl”, but even that led to a dead end. There were many, many, Ann’s, Anna’s, and Annie’s that fit the time frame — and while I have a suspicion of which one or two might be correct, I don’t feel confident enough to write about them. So, I’ll leave you with some theories.
My first guess is that this is one of two types of card. Either, from one sibling to another, or from one friend to another (with a possible romantic entanglement since that’s how I role). My gut feeling tells me this is probably an older sibling writing to a younger one. Maybe they were working in Atlantic City but couldn’t send money, or maybe they simply didn’t have enough time to send a full letter.
My less prominent theory — but perhaps more fun one — is that this is a beau writing to his girl. Maybe he was down on his luck and had gone to Atlantic City to earn some dough and that didn’t go through. Maybe he wanted to get enough money to marry. I genuinely don’t think this is the case, but since I’m left with little information, it’s fun to think about the possibilities.
Either way, it’s a beautiful card with elegant and sweeping handwriting. It feels like there’s a cool breeze drifting in from the ocean, and I envision the sender quickly writing out the letter on the boardwalk, squinting their eyes against the sun. What a lovely memorial to a July day.
“Scene at the Inlet”
Hipstory 