November 11th, 1926

Apart. No 1.

Chicago Ill.

Nov. 11^th, 1926

Dear Carrie,

Yours of the 9^th inst. just reached me tonight. I duly wrote you of my change of residence, but it seems my letter did not reach you. I am rooming with a family I formerly roomed with prior to going to Mrs. Heilscher’s. I, also, used to board with the mother (now dead), the “lady of the house.” I am now rooming in the home of H. Stanley and Florence A Reynolds at #915 west #86^th Place apart no.1. Mr. Reynolds is a clerk in “The Mutual National Bank.” They have two daughters, one 7years old, the other 11 months old. I have a comfortable room, (furnace heated), having a very large clothing closet, in which I, also, keep my trunk.

Since mother died, I have “lived around,” and had all sorts of experiences, and the longer I live, the more the quietness, and peacefulness of the single life appeals to me. I see by your letter that today “Thursday the eleventh” is the fatal day when Webster gives up^^the joys of bachelorhood, and enters “the monogamic institution of marriage” and that this date is, also ^^the anniversary of your wedding day. I am unable to make out the name of the young lady who is a party to this civil contract (for that is all marriage is in the sight of the law) which secures for her “board and clothing for life.” Lucky woman. I wish them all the happiness in the world.

I took as my vacation the last two weeks of Oct. I was retired the 31^st of Oct., and Nov. 1 my wages were reduced to a pension basis. I do not know as yet what the amount of the pension will be, but I know it will be small. I have, as yet, made no effort to obtain employment, and have spent most of my leisure in reading. I still have passes, and go to the business center every day, and watch the stock grain & cotton quotations, and visit the Public Library, and read magazines. I took your advice and did not retire until I reached the age limit i.e. 70 years. I, also, took your advice and did not “buy an income” by the purchase of the six flat building, and am now engaged in working out a plan to live within what income I shall now have. I have been greatly tempted to buy cotton around 12¢ but have resisted it so far.

I much enjoy reading “The American Mercury Magazine.” Today I came upon an article upon

“Monogamy” and it greatly pleases me, and so much so I made a copy of it. I quote from it.

“The success of the monogamic institution of marriage in these later days of Caucasian civilization must be looked for very largely outside the cities, and in the small towns, villages, farms, and other such places, where life is relatively

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(quotation continued) “drab and uneventful. Monogamy flourishes, as a cactus flourishes in a desert. Its very irritations, annoyances, disgusts, plate throwing, even fist fights are the things that perpetuate it sicne they, distasteful they are, yet offer themselves as compensatory fillips in the miserable humdrum of life immediately beyond the household walls. It is impossible to imagine the failure of a marriage on a deserted island, and it is almost as difficult to imagine the failure of a marriage in a settlement of five hundred or a thousand people where there isn’t even a movie parlor: where the railroad crossing man’s mother-in-law is the only suspect houri within twenty miles, and where the roads are bad, and where any person who doesn’t go to bed with the crows is given a hard look

Carrie- Here I had a caller who stayed late, and the next day I was called out of the city and I have had no chance to finish this letter, and now its Monday Nov. 15^th and “the lady of the house” is ill and I am remaining at home while the husband is at the bank. I now resume my letter writing

by the pastor on Sunday morning. It is obvious that a marriage disintegrates less frequently from internal than external causes. Thousands of married couples who hate the sight of each other, and would give their last nickel to mash the breakfast grape-fruit against each others noses stay married nevertheless, and so contribute their might to the delusion, shared by the less reflective statistician, that monogamy is a success (illusion). But the moment a husband lays an eye on a woman who coddles his fancy and causes him to lament the fact that his wife’s hair is black instead of yellow, or the moment a wife begins to take too great an interest in football or quotes at the dinner table the charming remark of her osteopath, that moment does a shyster lawyer somewhere begin figuring on buying a new body for his Ford. In the cities, these deplorable external critiques of monogamous marriage are plenteous, in the rural regions they hardly exist. The married yokel looks about him, and sees that his married lot is no worse then that of his neighbor’s. If his wife needs a good shampoo and garters to keep her cotton stockings from looking like exhausted accordions, so does this neighbor’s wife, and that neighbor’s wife in town. If the corned beef and cabbage that wafts into his windows from the house across the mule-path smells as if it would taste the same. If the physical appeal of his spouse is approximately as strong as that of a campaign poster of Ma Ferguson’s, so is that of every other squaw in the reservation, so he simply sits back, heaves a sigh, and waits patiently for a blonde angel in a white nightie in the hereafter. The city man, on the other hand, suffers a matrimonial doubt almost every time he looks out of a window or walks down the street on a windy day, and so, also, does his wife. For every marriage that is dissolved for statutory reasons, there are ten that begin to wobble toward disintegration simply because a husband, quite innocently, but unforgettably, likes the way in which his secretary smiles good morning at him, or because a wife admires the way in which some other fellow of her acquaintance keeps his trousers up without suspenders.”

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I judge the author of this article on “Monogamy” was a man with a bitter experience. The divorce courts, too, have their tales to tell of how difficult it is for a man and woman to live together in close contact. Looking at the subject with the perspective of the author, Webster stands a very good chance to escape the “Rocks of matrimony.” My sincere hope is that he will.

The predictions are for a severe winter, but I do not place much reliance on predictions regarding the weather. I am unable to decipher the given name of Webster’s wife in your last letter, and do not recall her last name prior to her marriage. It will be quite a change for her after having lived in a large city. Recently I read that Florida had never been visited by tornadoes later than Oct. or Nov. of any year. I am wondering if it is truth or propaganda. I shall begin working again if an opportunity presents. Men 71 years of age, and lame, are not much needed, I find. I took the last two weeks of Oct as my vacation. I have now been “a Man of leisure” for a month. As you predicted this kind of living (on so small a pension) is not to my liking. Nothing but lack of income would keep me from going South directly after Thanksgiving. I presume Pneumonia will “get me” in January or Feb. but it will not matter.

Your affectionate cousin,

James