The first letter

Sometime during the week of June 4, 1933, Lewis Thaddeus Nordyke of Cottonwood, Texas (really, a farm nearby) and Dorothy Alice Beeman of 2202 Fillmore, Amarillo, Texas received their Bachelor of Journalism degrees from the School of Journalism, The University of Missouri, Columbia, Missouri.

The next task, getting back to Texas. Easy enough for Dottie. Her dad worked for the Santa Fe; that meant railroad passes for the family. (This explains Dottie's multiple coming and goings later in the story.) Her mom, the inappropriately named Fred Brown Beeman, had made a quick journey up when they discovered Dottie would indeed graduate and not have to take a summer correspondence course. (More about this later as the tale unfolds in the letters.) Easy enough then, Fred and Dottie hopped on a westward heading Santa Fe, probably on Wednesday, June 6.

Things weren't going to be that easy for Lewis. He had no money. Family legend has it that he went to the station to tell Dottie goodbye. He explained in this letter that he didn't kiss her because of the "kids" who were there. I think it was more likely that it was Fred who was there. Nevertheless, when they touched hands for a final good-bye, Dottie slipped Lewis the $5 bill that was her spending money for the trip home. I told this story at her funeral, and not one of her four brothers disputed me. One of them thanked me for telling it.

Lewis then headed out in the car of his friend Dunn (apparently first nameless for purposes of this story) to the highway home, wished Dunn good luck on his adventures, and

 "walked up the highway a short distance and started the business of thumbing (not my nose)at people. It was eight o'clock. I stood there until one-thirty in the afternoon before a car even slowed or showed signs of stopping. Finally one stopped and I rode in it eight miles."

It was the launch of a hard trip. He says he almost turned back convinced that he'd never make it to Texas, but he caught another ride and was on his way. Sunday, he arrived home.  He had a reunion with his family. And, to his delight, found a letter from Dottie waiting for him. [Aside--wish I could find her half of this correspondence--dare I go look in the attic?. Scary thought.]

This had to be a huge reunion. I'm guessing here, and unless it comes out in the letters , I will never know, but, probably, he had not been home in almost two years. Lewis had no money, and his family had less. They were hard scrabble central Texas farmers in the middle of a drought in the middle of the depression. Their energies all focused on keeping the farm, not helping out a son in his late twenties who was going to school instead of working. Likely from the time he head to the University probably in fall of 1931 until this Sunday morning he had not seen a kinfolk.

He reported that it was a long day.

“Getting home and seeing all the folks was grand; with your swell letter added, yesterday was one great day for me. Why, I didn't even go to bed until nine-thirty last night, and it had been just exactly thirty nine hours since I had closed an eye.”

Now, on  Monday, rested up and forward-looking he took pen in hand, lamenting the lack of a typewriter and started off on eight pages of cramped handwriting recounting the details of the trip--some good times, a couple of funny ones, one scary encounter. Life on the road is an adventure.

Dottie had apparently asked if he got hungry on the trip.

"No, dear, I didn't get hungry but once on the entire trip. . .See I was getting so many good rides I didn't get a chance to eat anything from six in the morning to six-thirty in the evening; that that was the day I rode with the [new] friend who gave me food, drink and lodging."

I'll share some of his adventures in the next entry--maybe.

Now he was home, and about to leave again. He had a job interview Tuesday with Rufus Higgs, the publisher of the Stephenville weekly newspaper. Lewis had worked on the paper when he moved to Stephenville several years before to attend John Tarleton, then a two years school, and then to teach there while he accumulated the money for Missouri.

The Texas Press Association had elected Higgs president; he was going to need help with the paper since he'd be traveling a great deal. But there were lots of applicants and one very nervous young man on the farm near Cottonwood.

“I'll let you know what comes of the trip. I feel, tho, as if I've nearly got to get the job. I just don't know what I'll do if something knocks me out of getting that place. Guess I'll make it somehow tho.”

He closes (they were after all in love) with tender words and hope for an early reunion.

In an early entry here, I'll share some of Lewis's on-the-road experiences, and then I am going to back up, give some details of the early lives of Lewis and Dottie, and share some of my own feelings and thoughts about these letters. Oh, how I could reach out and embrace this young man. Tell him not to worry so much. But there are other things I would not tell him.