August 10, 1932 - Wednesday

I had a hunch this morning Ann E. and Paul might show up and sure enough as I was getting ready for dinner they showed up. We visited all evening. Didn’t see George much.

George's Letter Home:

Dear Mother,

My letters are very few this summer I know, and the only excuse I have to offer is that I have no interest in this place. I know you and Dad do not understand my attitude toward my job, and I also realize that you cannot come to a full realization without being in my position. I think the root of my trouble lies in my intense dislike for Mr. Price. This man’s personality contains everything I have guarded against throughout my life, and consequently there is nothing there for me to admire. He is entirely material, Mother; he has no element of spiritualness to change him from the hard, greedy person he is. There is no beauty in a sunset for him, Mother; there is no grandeur to the lake for him; there is nothing for him to admire in the beautiful wild flowers; there is only the glint of yellow gold at Crater Lake for him. In my two years of employment here, I have seen three dominant, though undesirable, parts to his character: Greed – Love of Power –Love for the Physical Body.

I have often observed, mother, that you can judge a person’s character quite accurately from his manner of eating. This man’s greatest joy is at the hours of 8:00 A.M. – 12:00 PM – 6:00 PM. There is two hundred dollars worth of cheese alone in the basement, besides all the anchovies, spices, etc. They belong to Mr. Price, and his fat jowls work ravenously over them.

He is king here Mother. King of family and Crater Lake. Wife and daughters commit all there activities by his consent alone, and employees are made to feel his command by the mouth of his “yes-man”, Karl Klipple.  The medieval ages with all their kinds of authority and power are past, and Mr. Price was apparently born way too late.

His “line of chatter” concerns sports and little else. He has a crew of football players occupying all the desirable positions, and occupying all his interest. They must have milk and fruit at all times of the day in order to keep their weight at the proper place, he must joke and talk with them about their game, they must be kept well and occupy the best rooms in the Lodge when congested. These are privileges not reserved for us, Mother. Orin and I have worked hard for three days now, cleaning away the rubbish that has accumulated for nine years in the basement. We have worked hard and done a very good job. Today Mr. Price came into the basement, walked silently past Orin and I to the other end of the basement. The football boys were piling wood there, and he spent a half hour talking and praising their work. Orin threw down his shovel with disgust and marched straight upstairs with me at his heels.

I am not envious, you know that the “green eyed monster” doesn’t bother me. I am simply disgusted with this whole system, and every abhorrent to this system, which places brawn above the intellect. We are working hard for low wages and receiving no wholehearted thankfulness for our cooperation; that is almost unbearable.

My explanation of my attitude is the explanation of one which prevails in the mind of every employee here. Small and trite it may seem, Mother; but it is the best I can do on paper. I do not say that this is my last summer here, but I shall bend every effort to secure another job next summer. I shall come here as a last resort, only.

That is a lode off my mind now, and I know you will understand the way your little boy feels. Now we shall have something pleasant.

Gosh, Mom, just think, in four days it will have been a year since I first kissed my little darling. It has been a glorious year filled to the brim with beautiful companionship. Of late, my whole endeavor in life has been turning toward the one desire to perfect myself in every way so that I may give her all the happiness in this old world. I know I can, Mother.

The weather is so cold that Bill and I simply freeze in bed. Not only the nights but also the days are terribly reminiscent of warmer climes. Oh me, how I would like to have one nice visit with my Mother and Dad in Portland.

Bye Mom, I shall be more liberal with my letters from now on.

Love, Brother