Darlingest Sweetie Pie, Friday, July 10, 1937
I love you.
To-day has been a day. We went through the whole twice between 9 and 12:30, and no one had a part in their hand. Niel seems terrifically pleased with the whole thing.
I got your letter with the warning about Don D. and don’t worry. He’s on the make for a little dame who’s here for vacation, and Don is out of circulation. Anyway, he doesn’t go around with the people who have taken me up.
What an atmosphere of theatre pervades this place. The families famous in the theatre, like the Byrons, Davis, Drews, etc, infest the place.
We were united to a fish fry given as a publicity stunt for Sally Rand by the famous Maine guide Charlie Mills. I studied until Halloran and Price came by, and we got a canoe and paddled to a beach on which it was to be held. We were haled as we passed the Byron place and went ashore to help launch a new boat of Buddies, and after getting it into the water, Buddy took us the rest of the way in his powerboat, parking the canoe on the float. Then Price deserted and went back with Buddy as he felt that he wasn’t the backwoods type. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t awfully inviting two roaring fires and the sun beating down and no shade, and it had rained earlier. It’s always raining here, so the beach was wet and we couldn’t sit down (I’m mad about you) and then when everyone was just about to eat came the deluge. In five minutes, everyone was soaked to the skin. We all ran for cars. The ones who had come in by boat were well stuck. I was lucky and got in a car with Dave Shelley and Halloran hanging on outside. The cameraman who had come to take the pictures and had already started shooting begged everyone to stay, but the panic was on. (you’re mine adored)
My wristwatch strap gave up another link, so I was without the time. I had thought of sending it to you, but I’ll wait and bring it personal. To-morrow I’ll have to go into Skow and get my things pressed, a haircut, and a new strap.
What a place! It’s only 10:30, and I’m tired and sleepy, so I’m going to bed. I will myself up at 7:30 shave –Tom Terris, the caretaker, just dropped by for a chat. An old man with terrific pride and Levy, who lives here, is always kicking about hot water, and Tom asked if I was getting enough. I am and told him so. But to get on–shower and a huge breakfast – a half-mile walk to the rehearsal hall, and I’m ready to go. I feel so damn fine it’s a pity. If you were only here, it would be perfect. I miss you so and want you to be near. As far as the work goes, I’ve never had the confidence or felt better in a part of my life.
I’m going to study awhile and go to bed like a farmer. I adore you.
All My Love,
Jack
