Letter 20, October 1, 1941

Dear Mother and Dad,

I haven't written that letter to Louise yet but everything else in Sunday's letter stacks up. I read my lesson again and when I finished it was time to go to work. I even took it with me to read it on the street car. Thus far, my course has covered what the book calls the fundamentals of advertising. It consists mainly of memorizing the elements and stages of advertising and advertising campaigns. It is a little different than the McAdams system but from what I know of the McAdams system they are alike in some respects. I will know better when we get into the actual study of an advertisement.

I have got to have this machine adjusted. The touch is a little heavy--especially on the r.

Last night I was called into the group leaders office and quizzed on everything I should know. It took about an hour. The answers I gave will determine the classification I will get when they put in the new jigs (jigs are the forms or dyes that the wings are made in).

The clown, fellow I was telling you about, was made my partner the other night. He and I were on the fastest crew in--and most efficient--the plant, and now we plan to be the fastest pair in the plant.

He brought a car to work last night and this morning when we got off he asked me if I wanted to ride home with him. So homeward bound I came in a car. It was an old 1930 Buick. I don't know how long this will keep up but he said if he decided to take it everyday he would give me a ride.

Now it is Tuesday!

It didn't take me that long to write Monday's letter. While I was writing your letter I got an idea for the theme that I have to hand in with this lesson-fifth lesson, so I wrote it. It is a description of L.A. I wrote it as Rabelais would, only without the profanity. That is I tried. I want to change it a little but when I finish it I will send it home and let you read it.

Last night at the plant I made my first butch. The material wasn't rejected so it really wasn't a butch but It was my first mistake. I reamed out a half dozen #40 holes #30. I immediately told my lead man, he looked over what I had done and said well it's about time, now everyone in my group has made a butch. "Really thought Larsen," he said "that was uncalled for. You must not have been thinking." I told him I must not have been, and if I ever pulled another bonehead mistake like that I would take a Saturday off. He laughed and said he would remember it. That little resolution gives me a good excuse never to make another one anyway--the one thing I didn't intend to do and don't intend to do it again. Such mistakes don't affect your personal record because they are easily fixed. One of the fellows said, "well, don't worry Larsen, McDonald here has had four skins rejected." I have heard about that and such things as that are absolutely uncalled for.

Well, anyway, I left the plant and as I was getting into Wally's car --Scott--my lead man walked by and said, "now God-Damn it, Larsen, get some sleep tonight, I have got to have someone around here I can depend on." Hope he meant that. It might be indicative of what I am hoping for. Still hoping (?).

By the way I mentioned Wally's car. I am still riding but he says he is going to sell it. I like the street car now, anyway, because I know practically everyone on the line.

This morning when I got on the street car a very good looking girl spoke to me. She had on a college sweater---USC--and had an arm full of books. I spoke and walked back and sat down with the boys. They all made an issue of it--boys will be boys--and ribbed me thoroughly. She kept turning around and smiling--I kept smiling and blushing--and when we reached Broadway--the main street of L.A.--she got off. She smiled when she left and said something but I couldn't hear it for the "smart remarks" the fellows were making. I kept thinking about it all the way home and when I got off the car it suddenly donned on me that I used to know her in High School and my freshman year at the U. Her first name is Virginia and her last, I think, Marshall. Now I am kicking myself for not talking to her.

I just finished dinner and telling the boys some tall tales about Salt Lake. I happened to mention skiing and they asked me if I skied. I said do I ski? Why once I was standing up at the top of the big take off at Ecker Hill cleaning the snow drifts off the run-way with a scoop shovel, and I slipped, lit on the scoop, went spinning down the runway, off the end of the jump, two hundred and fifty feet. That one broke up the bull session after dinner and now I think I had better quite and do a little reading. Write Soon. Love, Tom