February 1, 1945

Dearest Paddy:

Today two letters plus the anniversary card which I liked very much. A nice letter from young Linus came, too, with a picture of him and Julee. He is a dear boy. He said Public Relations had taken pictures of him as the Honor Graduate of his group — that perhaps it would be in the post paper.

Last night it began to rain in earnest and continued steadily today. I hated to go out and take the little children home but I didn't do it last Thursday and felt that I couldn't default again.

Little Crellie was at home however and seems to be quite sick — fever 101 this afternoon. I'll call Dr. McMillan if he isn't better in the morning. It has nothing to do with last weeks rash which went away completely. The little fellow said his head was too heavy this morning.

Linda, Peter, Chippy, and I are well and really glad that it is raining. The children enjoy taking their two buses.

Hah[?] — our first kiss — or something!! I'd barely met you 23 years ago this January. The idea! But the card is very nice anyway. Linda says it shows the kind of girl you really like and would like to have married. You see that she has your number.

I am going to send the two children with Dr. Bell tomorrow. Shall I go down to the ration board for more gasoline? I suppose I must.

Mary called and told me about Carl's appendectomy. It must have happened suddenly.

I'm glad you are getting along well and having a good time. Isn't it awfully foolish of Freddie to throw away these good opportunities this way? I'm so sorry to hear that Moe isn't too well. He should be careful.

Did I tell you about reading "Locomotive God"? Yes I did but didn't send the letter.

I'm happy to say I've recovered my good sense and am my cheery self once more. Linda wishes me to say "Hello" and that she loves you. Crellie was very taken with the x-ray of him and me. He said he wanted really to see his bones — the little lad.

Good night and much love to you your girl, Ava Helen

February 1, 1945

Dearest love:

I enclose some stamps, in case that you are out of them.

This morning I went out to see Keidelberger, who is the same as ever. He is a generous person — he got his wife to agree to stay home from the Budapest Quartet concert so that I could use her ticket, but I refused. Someone told me that H., who is an ardent stamp collector, sold his collection a few years ago to give the money to a friend in trouble.

I also interviewed a Guggenheim applicant, Chargaff (not American born). He wants to write a book, and he complained that American publishers won't advance him $2000 the way Springer in Germany would have, and that American foundations never give money without strings attached. [sketch of a right hand giving the "thumbs down" sign]

Then I had luncheon with Warren Weaver. He said that he has a deep-seated suspicion of a certain Goetz [?], and he asked if I knew about skullduggery regarding some funds some years ago — the R.F. decided not to cause a scandal. Then he suggested to me that at its December 1945 meeting the F ⁿ would be pleased to consider an application for a large sum of money to be expended on protein research over a long period!

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On leaving I saw the name George W Gray and his room number, and I asked to see him, so that could report to you — but unfortunately he was out.

I then went to Censorship, and fooled around all afternoon, together with Robley Evans! We had a good time. He is working on blood, too — preservation of whole blood.

I talked with Weaver about Cohn's interference with our plasma substitute — Warren started the conversation, by asking if I knew about Jack William's troubles. He discussed the question of what makes Cohn behave in this way — and said that he was afraid that Cohn's efforts to make himself the scientific hero of the war would in the long run cost him a great deal!

I still have a bit of soreness in my throat and ear, but my cold hasn't developed.

Nine more nights to go (no more, I hope — though I haven't reservations back yet!). I love you.

Your own

Paddy