August 30, 1916 - But for the timely interference of a constable, there would have been a lynching bee.

Here is a very long letter that Joe wrote. As you can see it started on August 28 and finally finished two days later. It has some content that I found shocking as I read it. I needed to put it into perspective with the time that it was written and also note these were stories that were recounted by an 85 year old man that Joe me. I have left the language as it was.

August 28, 1916
Helen dear,
Going to Shelton on the car early this morning, having arrived here too late last night to get home, I met an old gentleman, whom I have known for several years platonically, as it were. That is, I have met him countless times, so that we speak to each other, and tho he knows my name, I am totally ignorant of his. He wont state his age, but I learned that he was only 10 when the Civil War broke out, so judge for yourself.

Well in passing, I cannot help but refer to the "well" that you have perchanced seen in the few letters that I have penned. Did you ever read "Acres of Diamonds?" If so you recall what a wonderful story Dr. Conwell painted in words. Many a time and oft have I read it, and you can perhaps realize the thrill that went through me(and it had some distance to go, you'll admit) when I found that I was to hear him recite it.
Of course I re-read it again, and knew it fairly well. One paragraph begins " Well, we etc." I was amazed to learn that he not only recites it by heart,  word for word, but in a most refreshing manner, and how emphatic and restful he was when he said "Well, we etc," pausing at "well." The word means so much now, that I have learned to use it, with effect - to myself - at least. It helps to change the thought without being too abrupt.

Well, in reading the morning paper he and I read a certain man here who claims he is the oldest voter - first voting in 1850. How fortunate suffrage was unknown then; for even if known, where, oh where, would one of the fairer sex insist the she was the oldest voter etc. etc. ad finitem?
At any rate, the man I was with knew this relative of Methuselah and so began to reminisce. And while on the subject of wells, I might add I pumped my friend for information. He was so interesting that if I started to tell all the stories he related, it would require that the letter be sent by freight.
You will notice that this is dated yesterday, and I actually got to this point where I received good news, that also necessitated my stopping writing temporarily.

My brother completed a transaction that he had been working on for some time, and we were glad that it was satisfactorily consummated.

To get back to the point I started with. This old gentleman said he recalled peculiar incidents of Civil War days. You have read history and know about rebellion. This man actually recalls things they wont put in print.

For example in a certain town around here, one of the papers was democratic. He states that the Democrats were "Pro Slavery." As a matter of fact (see "Buffalo Jones in Pig Pen Pete") the Republican party was born in Bloomington Ill. about 1856, and Abe was a staunch Anti-slavery leader. This paper following it s principles, printed an article frowning the South, secession and slavery. This man and a few of his friends got a yoke of oxen and a truck, went to the printery and took their press (of course a small one in those days) dragged it to the dock and as he says " we chucked it overboard, by gosh."

So, he says at that time the First Mass. regiment passed through here en route for Richmond. They were a happy yet sorry looking lot. Every mother's son from the rock bound coast thought the was a joke. In fact the whole North, in the beginning thought it a trifle and that it would be over in a few weeks. These farmer boys had no guns or ammunition of any kind. It was "so gal durn funny, now as I think of it," he said, to see those boys with pitchforks, shovels, rakes, and rope. They expected to go to Richmond storm it with there pitchforks, hang Jefferson Davis with the rope, and end the war in a blaze of glory. History never told us of such incidents. It took the North a couple of years to get prepared, but the tide turned at Gettysburg in 1863.

He told another story immediately after the war. He was in his store one morning and a fellow came in and said "Abe was shot last night." It took that long for news to travel. They all knew Lincoln as "Abe" then, just as we know another by the name of "Teddy." A democrat of pro-slavery tendencies, and one known as "copperhead" who was present then, with an epithet said "it served hi right; he should have kept the niggers where they belong."

Spontaneously several men grabbed him and before you could say "Premyzl" a rope was on his neck, and but for the timely interference of a constable, there would have been a lynching bee.
He told so many fine stories, really, that it would take hours to relate them; but I will not continue now.

I was glad to hear that you are enjoying yourself so much. It's fine that you have such good music and dancing and swimming. And while you were singing, we've done some rowing down here, as the enclosed clipping will show.

The railroad situation is terrible. If there is a strike Monday, as has been decreed, according to the papers, how will I ever return from Camp? Go on and laugh, and say, I ought to stay up till Friday, but it's no joke. Still I am going up Saturday on a chance when I can return.

I have cancelled my auto trip to Poland Springs Maine, so that is out of the way.
Yesterday I had a party (5) of friends from Baltimore here en route from the White Mountains, and they spent a pleasant afternoon here looking over our industrial activities.

I have been trying to arrange to get away early on Saturday,  but it doesn't look very optimistic for I'd heave to leave Friday night in order to catch the early train.
You've but a few more days of camping, so make the most of it. Your letters indicate that you are.

The weather here is so cool, that I am thinking of carrying my sweater to camp Saturday. But it's clear and crisp, and that's so comfortable.

Did I tell you that the cat had a litter of five kittens. My mother expects to train them, and I've suggested that she run a little circus or a sketch "Chat Noir."

Your,
Joe

Here is the article that Joe sent in the letter.

SHAPIROS AND ROSEN BUY SEVEN HOUSES
Seven houses on William street have been purchased from David N. Armstrong by Dr. Maurice Rosen and Atttorneys Shapiro and Shapiro. They will be remodeled to conform with the Los Angeles plan. This plan, popular in New York and California, calls for apartments of three rooms only. These rooms will be fitted up with sliding beds and other similar space saving conveniences.
The houses were built a number of years ago by Frank Armstrong, of the Armstrong Manufacturing com­pany. They are on the site of the old Armstrong farm, and have been occupied, in years by some of Bridge­port's prominent families.



The next letter will be September 3.

August 29, 1916 - Helen Enjoying Camp

Here is a photograph from the archives of Helen in the summer of 1916. She is dressed in her riding gear and was most likely about to go out for a ride with her brother Abe. He was passionate about horses.

Helen at camp She was 22.

The next letter is August 30.

August 23, 1916 - Back among your hill, lake and trees.

Here is a note that Joe wrote after briefly seeing Helen in New York before she left for camp again.

Wednesday
Dear Helen,

Just about now you should be arriving in Wingdale, preparatory to Fording up to the Camp, back among your hills, lake, and trees.

Yesterday afternoon, in spite of the heat, was a dandy one, for I knew that when I would have completed my task, it would leave me in New York, and you were there too.

And your remark about your fairy waiving her mystic wand and producing some one suddenly, certainly came as though that fairy must have heard you, but the mysticism was suddenly disappeared, and 8:30 I was all alone. It reminded me of the movies, where a fellow smokes, looks into the fireplace and sees the outlines of a familiar face, and suddenly realizes it was only a mirage. Those are the things dreams are made of, but from Wingdale Howard's observations, little dreaming can be done with Bridgeport Joe or rather Shelton Joe in the scene. Nest ce pas? Is that spelled properly?

But I guess your fairy - whoever she is - likes to tease quite a bit, else why, just the one day you are in New York, and it so happens that I am fortunate enough of being there, does it so happen that you are to be out at that time. Yet I know you made a "step in the Right" direction. I was almost tempted to go to "Turn to the Right" myself, but discretion is the better part of valor. Oh yes, I missed the train; so while waiting saw "Seven Chances." Of course I came late, and partially enjoyed it, but, - oh well, it's near 11:30 a.m. and I have a hearing to attend in a few minutes, and must get my papers together.

Your,
Joe

The link above to the play which Joe was speaking of  is to the movie version taken from the play. The play is linked here. The same thing with the play that Joe saw "Seven Chances" the link is to the movie made from the play. The play link is here.

Just a note here I believe this is when Joe started to sign Your, Joe instead of Sincerely, Joe. Something is shifting here.

The next letter is August 28.

August 17, 1916 - I sneezed my cabeza off yesterday

Mid August and Helen is still up at camp. Looks like Joe is planning to visit.

August 17, 1916

Helen dear,
Here's a chance for you to laugh and grow fat. Somewhere, somehow, I've caught a beastly cold. Can you beat it? I sneezed my cabeza off yesterday., and am thinking of getting under the care of an expert plumber. "How I came by it, or whence it came"  like Antonio of old, I know not. But different from him I am not a bit sad; for what is a little cold more or less.

I started looking - just for the sake of knowing - how the trains leave Saturday, but the 3:20 looks like the one best bet. The earlier ones get away too early, or else take too long.

I am somewhat curious to know what Butz was thinking of Sunday, but since you say you know, I'd probably be told if it concerned me, n'est-ce pas.

This morning I read a terrible article by Seniss about cats. What he doesn't say about them cannot be imagined. And a good deal of it is true. Isn't it strange that in my old age I should feel obliged to soften my feelings for the cat tribe? Still as we grow older, we naturally change our ideas on many subjects. Experience and information that we must naturally acquire i our social and professional dealings open new avenues for thought. What will the poor critters do when the organized effort of the Ornithological Society that has started out to license cats or do away with 'em, gets in its real work? Since they have nine lives, suppose they use one for worrying. "Hang worry, care will kill a cat." Sounds more like an essay for an old maid's home, doesn't it?

Sincerely,
Joe

The next letter will be August 23.

August 10, 1916 - My old Alma Mater

Here are two postcards that Joe wrote to Helen and her 16 year old sister Lillie while they were away from New York City at camp.

My old Alma Mater. I actually went inside to breath some of the familiar air that seems to permeate there.
Joe

If the former owner of this house heard you sing "dang-a-roos" and "persperswitzed" he'd have destroyed his great work.
J.G.S.

This postcard is of the house of Noah Webster.
As you can see he was teasing the teenage Lillie.

The next letter is on August 17.

August 1, 1916 - Hughes shouted, “I stand squarely for votes for women."

This letter is perhaps one of the best letters Joe wrote about politics of the time. He was really honored to go and hear Charles E Hughes in New York. He was running against Woodrow Wilson. We all know what happened in the end but it is really interesting to have a glimpse into the process 100 years ago.

Tuesday morning

My dear Helen,

My hand is rather wobbly this morning, and if you are able to read this letter, it merely shows skill on your part in deciphering.

It’s all because I have just heard from New Haven, that Louis was operated upon, and naturally no other news so soon. My brother and Doctor Rosen went down, leaving me here, and I was very much alarmed for a while because they found some bands on his intestines that had to be removed too. But since my brother phoned that he is returning, I know that Louis must be comfortable, and hope that in a few weeks, he will be home, well and happy.

Of course you looked for a letter today. I have given one reason already for not writing; but I have a better one.

Oh yes. I did not phone your mother Sunday night. Our train was late in arriving, and I made the home train by a nose. I had to run from one end of the station to the other. We pulled in 8:58 and the other left at 9.

But yesterday I was in New York again and called up the house, making satisfactory explanation. Early yesterday morning, while in Shelton, Judge Dillon invited me to be his guest in New York for last night to attend the notification of Hughes at Carnegie Hall. He had a box, and you can guess the first time whether the invitation was accepted. We arranged to leave Bridgeport at 4 and my idea was to write in the afternoon. But on getting to the office found a full days work that kept me in the City Court up to within ten minutes before train time.

On arriving in New York we dined at the Astor. There we met Mr. Hughes, Gov. Whitman, Senator Harding of Ohio, Senator Henry Cabot Lodge and others. At eight o’clock we arrived at Carnegie Hall and were escorted to our box. On entering the tremendous audience that had packed the hall began a riotous outburst of applause. I calmly mopped my perpersweated brow, straightened out my tuxedo, bowed and sat down, not in the least disturbed by the ovation. They continued to applaud till I rose again. Yes, I might add that T. Roosevelt and daughter arrived in the adjoining box at the same time I did. I’ll tell you something about that man later, but I can’t imagine his presence had anything much to do with the applause. Of course someone yelled “We’re with Teddy” and pandemonium again broke loose. Do you suppose they referred to him?

When Hughes arrived the noise was deafening. The auditorium was decorated with flags and banners of each of the several states. A military band furnished refreshments musically.

Mrs. Hughes and family had a special box and were naturally the cynosure of all.

The sea of upturned perspiring faces interrupted with applause frequently. The stage contained many celebrities. The Pinchots, Senators, Joe Cannon and more. If you threw a stone you’d hit a Congressman or a Judge.

Hughes’ speech of acceptance was wonderful. Such eloquence, such sarcasm, such wit, and such logic, all combined was not only worth a trip from Bridgeport, but one across the country.

Afterward, we repaired to the Hotel for a reception.

During the address, Roosevelt was watched every moment. Everyone was anxious to see how the sentiments were received by him.

He frequently applauded, but it was a short choppy, one, two, three, clap and hands folded.

But when Hughes shouted, “I stand squarely for votes for women”, pandemonium broke loose. I’ve used that twice, but it’s good. Roosevelt was in ecstasy.

At a suggestion that tasted of preparedness or strict neutrality, he smiled and violently nodded assent.

When Hughes said we a standing army and navy to police our nation as essentially as we need policeman and fireman to protect our cities, I heard T.R. say “attaboy, bully, that’s Americanism”.

But when you read the morning’s papers you’ll get a real description of the proceedings. There were many incidents to long remember, but I shall not take you away from your swimming for their narration. It must have been somewhere near 346 degrees last night, they said, but the thermometer said about 93 degrees.

Well, a swim would have been fine, but I didn’t care for the idea of going to any of the large baths where probably multitudes of men would be trying to cool off like myself, so I took the midnight train back. It was a great relief, I’ll tell you again, to get here and find everything so cool and refreshing and when I arrived at my mother’s, with the vine growing over the veranda and the stars quietly blinking, with now and then a cricket swizzling, I almost said “This is the life.” And as I rang and waited to go in, old tabby must have heard, and she came over, sleepily dragging herself along purring at my trouser leg, as much as to say “ ooh, late again, and twice in concussion; you’d better keep regular hours” – yawning. I picked her u, carried her down the cellar to her place of abode, tucked her in; but couldn’t kiss her good night. And when I arose in the morning, I was reminded, as tho I needed, to keep in touch with New Haven. That brings me exactly where I began; doesn’t it?

I told your mother that I anticipated going up again Saturday, what do you think of the idea? Of course, if they have no room, that would settle it; and I’d simply stay home and visit Louis, which I intend doing tomorrow too.

But if you think they’ll have some accommodations, I’ll try the journey. The same room I have would be agreeable, if they have nothing better; for you know, it isn’t the hostelry nor even the country that I go on such a tedious trip for.

This letter is long enough, I imagine, to cause you to feel that whether the women are worrying about whether you’re lovely or not, for the time being perhaps you might not be. And don’t forget to remember me to Florence and Lillie Brice.

Sincerely,

Joe

This letter shines a bright light on politics then and in a strange way politics now. 

Below are two articles that I found on line in reference to the event Joe attended in New York City. 

The next letter is on August 10.