41 Love Letters R. H. Swinney to Ruth Erlanger, 1934

Ruth darling,

The long-expected letter from home came this morning in the same mail with your letter from Pueblo. Mother said she had written you, so you must know by now what she thinks of developments—at least if she told you what she told me. The whole family fell in love with the pictures of you—mother said my youngest brother did to such an extent that he was likely to try and cut me out if I ever brought you close to home. She also said she was sure that she would like you, and that she hoped that you would feel the same way toward both her and the other members of the family. I knew, sweetheart, that they couldn’t resist even the small portion of your charm and loveliness which is apparent in a picture.

My poor little girl had a hard trip, didn’t she? But now that you are in the mountains where it is cool you can rest—an sleep!—to your heart’s content. If I could only be there with you, darling. It seems a long wait, but it is a glorious thought that after next June we shall always be together. I know that I shall be happy, yet I still can’t think of it without experiencing a sort of feeling of awe and reverence—that may sound queer, but it is true nevertheless.

Dr. West and I went to the ball game yesterday—just to see the Cards lose a double-header ((Saturday, August 12, 1934, at Sportsman’s Park III: Chicago Cubs 7, St. Louis Cardinals 2 and Chicago Cubs 6, St. Louis Cardinals 4. Despite Harold’s disappointment, the Gashouse Gang would go on to win the 1934 World Series in seven games against the Detroit Tigers.)) while the brothers Dean ((Hall-of-Famer Dizzy Dean and his younger brother Paul. The day after the games attended by Harold, the brothers would make the news for refusing to travel to Detroit for an exhibition game against the Tigers. The day after that, the brothers would be suspended, and Dizzy charged for ripping up two uniforms.)) both got batted off the mound. Dr. West is leaving tomorrow night for Oconomowoc, after which event this place will certainly be deserted.

No, there was no beating administered by means of mental telepathy, but if that (mental telepathy) would work neither your finger nor your lips would lack for kisses, for “All I do, the whole day through, is dream of you,” ((From “All I Do Is Dream of You,” by Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown. Featured in the 1934 film, Sadie McKee.)) darling. The Corporation is even paying for the time during which this is being written.

Now turn (in thought, at least) your ear close to my lips while I whisper,

I love you Ruth,
Harold

My darling Ruth,

Even after you have been absent for three and a half days—I still love you. Surprised?

How was the rest of the trip? Your first day sounded like a bad one, but from then on you should have had cool nights at least.

Dr. West docked here this morning at about 7 o’clock. He was sort of non-committal about whether or not he was surprised, but he did say (honestly) that he thought I was lucky and (dishonestly, I think) that he also thought you were lucky too. We agreed unanimously about the first. He just said to tell you that he would write soon as he has something interesting to tell you.

The parents must have ex-communicated me—without the usual document so stating, as no letter has yet arrived. Perhaps the shock was too great. They had better send those pictures back at any rate.

Work goes on as usual; i.e: most everything backwards, but a little comes out O.K., so there isn’t too much room to kick. Also study has been started on pharmacology—just a little though. It really wouldn’t do to start too suddenly. And I’m getting to bed at 10 o’clock these nights—there isn’t any attraction to keep me up now, but I’m counting the hours until there will be. Right now it has been 5,350 minutes until since I have seen you, and just think of the thousands yet to pass before I shall see you again—I’m fair adrift in a sea of abandonment.

Sweetheart, after seeing you every evening you can’t imagine—or can you?—how I miss you when I can’t see you any evening. You are—or were—maybe, will be—so sweet to me. (Dr. West just asked me to tell you that he thinks my letters are too long? Think so?). Take care of yourself darling, and don’t get thrown from a broncho, or fall down a cliff.

Kiss that dear finger for me so that it won’t feel so empty.

Good-bye, for a little while, dear heart,
Harold

Sweetheart, I have just come from seeing “The New Moon,” ((Add note)) which was an excellent show. Yet there was something missing, for the little sleepy-headed girl of whom I have dreamed so long was not beside me. I wished you were there for several reasons: first, because I always want you near me; second, because the show was good; and third, because Paul Haakon ((Add note)) did the most astonishingly graceful dance I have ever seen.

The night was enchanting, the sky was full of stars, the air was full of music, and my heart was full of longing for you. There was no woman in the whole crowd who could compare with the lovely girl who has promised to be my bride, and there was no song so sweet as the one which has been singing with my every pulse-beat since I first heard you say, “I love you.”

There is really no news at all. The only reason I’m writing is so that you may know that I long to whisper into your ear, “Darling, I love you.”

Harold

Darling, this evening seems an empty and useless thing with you gone. I knew certainly that I should miss you, but not that I should miss you as much as I do. however, I shall know from tonight on that whenever we are apart my thoughts, my heart, and my love will be with you always.

Please tell me all about your trip. Did my dear little sleepy-head get very tired? It was so hot here today that you must have had a disagreeable day on the road.

Is Ouray as nice a place as you expected? And the miners—how many charming ones have you spotted so soon?

Dr. West hasn’t returned yet, but he will surely get here tomorrow or the next day. Nor did I get a letter from my parents today. We are both so anxious to see what they will say too. As soon as they write I’ll let you know what they tell me—or at least all excepting any insulting remarks about my back-sliding.

You know this pen is a hard one to manage. It has gotten so used to writing Bi – 2 cc, and Neo – 0.45 that it almost balks at anything else. I worked on reagents, etc., today—distilled pet. ether, and also saponified some castor oil. Incidentally got into some difficulty so am hoping for the return of the Boss at an early date.

Tomorrow night I am going to see, “The New Moon,” ((Sigmund Romberg, Oscar Hammerstein II, Frank Mandel and Laurence Schwab, The New Moon, 1928.)) and shall be more lonesome for you than ever, since the theme song is called, “Lover Come Back to Me,” ((Lyrics.)) which might, however unaccountably, make me think of a certain dark-haired damsel who has deserted me entirely.

Although you have just gone I’m looking forward eagerly to your return, and I want you to always remember that I love you, little sweet-heart.

Goodnight,
Harold