m.--then across town and the ferry
to Jersey City, then by Erie to Port Jervis, N.Y., and then by
auto into the mountains. Give me those passes. I'll make them
good on No. 12. I'll make your reservations, and I'll have No. 12
stop at Greencastle and pick them up." All the which he did.
The train stopped, and old man Keith happened to be the
conductor. He was in a huff about having to stop his long heavy
train at any town like Greencastle. He stood to one side and the
patrons started climbing up the steps: Mother, nurse, kids,
boxes, suit cases, bird cages, more kids, grips, violin cases,
dolls, milk, kids, a kitten, lunch boxes and more kids. He turned
to me and asked, "Is this a picnic or a family?"
I said: "It's a family--and they're no picnic by a d-- sight."
Yours,
AUNT MARGARET'S SPLASH IN JOURNALISM
December 3, 1939
My dear Julia and Anna:
I saw a couple of "features" written by Joan and published in
today's Indianapolis Sunday Star, so I clipped them, and here
they are. One uses her own by-line, and the other "Betty Clarke."
If I get the story right, some Betty Clarke wrote for the
Associated Press on cosmetics, etc. Her successors have used that
same name in turn.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149