Epistles from Pap: Letters from the man known as 'The Will Rogers of Indiana'

by Andrew Everett Durham

Naturally I wanted to help win the War, so I went outside, got in the Mercury and headed for Hoffman's storage plant on North Indiana Street. There was Robert and his helper, Jim Allen. . . I asked their opinion, and they both agreed it was the Wonder of the Age.

If one bottle was good, then more would be better, so I bought three. Then, as a sort of hedge, and to be on the safe side, and being that I was already there, I bought a case of Cook pints, as I knew what they were, and came home, put the case on the kitchen radiator and the three half gallon bottles of Doc Sigler-recommended, unpasteurized Champagne-Velvet beer in the ice box and awaited developments.

Later I went to the Lincoln for supper, then tarried downtown a bit and started home. Pearl O'Hair was on her front porch and called to me. I went down and courted her until after dark, then thought of my Champagne-Velvet Doc. Sigler-recommended unpasteurized beer in half gallon bottles that help win the War, and came home. I reached in where we used to keep milk, pulled one out and it looked bigger than a blockbusting bomb. I got the biggest glass in the house and poured it full. It tasted rather alright, so I took another sample. Then others. The bottle stood the drain unusually well. Then I found a rubber stopper, inserted it, put the bottle back in the ice box and came in the front room to read the News. Then back to the half gallon bottle of unpasteurized amber fluid. That bottle "gave down" like a six- year-old Holstein with a new calf. . . Another round or so and we called "recess" for me to go out on the front porch for air. But duty called me back to the bottle. By that time I could see I was gaining slightly, and would eventually win if I kept up my morale. But it was a horse race with bets about even. Then back to the front porch for more air, then back to the half gallon bottle of unpasteurized that helps win the War. On one of these trips to the front porch I noticed the Electric Light people had inserted a bigger light bulb while I had been gone. But my patriotic duty called me back to the pantry and the rubber-stoppered half gallon bottle. In desperation I again went to the front porch to bring in help, any kind of help, but the streets were empty. Then back to the kitchen, and then to the front porch where I was seized with a desire to go calling, anywhere, and anybody who could talk, or rather listen, because at this time the gods were unfolding to me a quick and brilliant scheme in which I was to outshine MacArthur and tip the balance to win the war—just like that. The plan was simple and should have been thought of before now. It was to furnish all enemy soldiers with half gallon bottles of Doc Sigler-recommended unpasteurized Champagne-Velvet beer, make them drink it and thus cause internal drowning. Simple, isn't it? But suddenly it became unnecessary, because back at the bottle and just as I was draining the last drop, there came through the ether, the short wave fuzzy joint and unconditional surrender of Hitler, Sitting Bull and the Pennsylvania Whiskey Rebellion. As Ever,

AVOIDING A STATE OF NATURE

Aug. 4, 1942

My dear Aura May: (then visiting in Worcester, MA) . . . I took time off today to go to Reiner's at Indianapolis to test out fur coat prices. They are high, but nonetheless, my offer stands provided you want one at this time. Your letter rather indicated you would as soon wait a year or so. That is sensible and also thoughtful, and it might be a year in College and an opportunity to look around and sort of study fur coats might be better than to jump in and buy one hastily. . .

Sarah Jane has her sights raised too high, I think. She says $419, exclusive of fur coat, undergear, socks and I don't remember what else she excepted. . . You are fine looking, well made and therefore can wear grass dresses, sarongs and Russian Sable with equal grace. In other words, clothes don't have to make you. And thank God they don't have to pinchhit for your scholarship. Still, you should have good clothes, and you are going to get them. Sarah Jane must have smuggled you into Worcester after dark, because, according to one of her letters, you were naked, or practically so, when she took you to Canada. I hope your ears were clean.

However and nevertheless, Sarah Jane is doing her level best to help us all out in these, your clothes troubles. She is taking her time and effort, and all for the good of the cause, so let's all be appreciative. She thinks we are losing time, back tracking and creating a state of confusion—which we are. . .

I am therefore enclosing a draft for $300 and telling you you are free to do as you please in the selection of your clothes. After all, you will have to wear them, you are 18, an exceptional scholar, and you should be pleased and satisfied. This is not all the money you are to get for clothes, etc., this year, but God knows I think it is enough for you to start out on this Fall and Winter. If not, then we'll sell some shoats . . . and rustle up some more.

Ann has to have a few duds, you know. Margaret is in a state of nature as to clothes, and . . . Munny surely needs a new bustle and pair of arch-supporter shoes by now . . . .What I'll be needing is a pair of new corrugated rubber-soled shoes and plenty of cinders .. . .