My “auntie” Rosemary Manell was one of Julia Child’s best friends. She and Dorothy Cousins (Julia’s sister) used to be clients of my mom’s – and became friends. Rosie used to come over for Thanksgiving, in fact, driving up with her white mane of hair and her white Jag. She and Julia were in France together – it’s my remembrance that they were actually at the Cordon Bleu TOGETHER, after they were both in the Service. She, Dorothy, and Julia were all of course around 6′ tall (or taller) and all their husbands far shorter. You gotta love it. (As I’m 6’2″ and have ALWAYS been tall, the idea that “having to date a man taller than yourself” was “comPLETE NONsense” per these awesome women – which was great to hear growing up).

Jane Lynch, who played Dorothy Cousins (Julia’s sister) was EXACTLY LIKE Dorothy. I saw Dorothy a lot – Julia was in Santa Barbara and so I never actually met her until she was very, very old. But WOW, was Dorothy spot on. The audience was full of folks who “knew” the sisters, of course, but the rest of the audience must have thought we were mad when we were laughing “inappropriately” at comments made between the two sisters – just because it really was like Dorothy was “right there.” The characterization was just so great, it made you giggle because Dorothy was just such a character. It was like seeing her alive again.

Mom and Shirley (Sarvis) talked a lot while we were waiting for the “afterparty” to begin about what a wonderful guest Julia was. Mom’s “fear factor” of cooking for Julia was assuaged at Dorothy’s when she met Julia the first time – if you’re curious, ask me to relate the “G+d D+mn Rat Turds!” story.

Ivan loved Dorothy just like Paul loved Julia. The person that the folks who knew them the best marvelled at wasn’t so much Streep’s portrayal of Dorothy. Sure, some said it was great, all were relieved it wasn’t “Saturday Night Live-ish”, some said it was a little over the top – but the portrayal of Paul by Stanley Tucci had folks wet-eyed. (Of Streep, one panelist said, “It was a bit of a ‘Hollywoodification’ of Julia, but if it brings her back to us and get folks cooking, versus reality shows and the horror of “Food TV”, it’s great”; another said, “The ‘Instant gratification’ of Food TV juxtaposed against watching Julia slowly putting a dish together is like night and day – people need to see this again”; Jim Dodge said about Food TV, “It’s against the labor laws to treat people like that. Make food. Travel. Love Watch Julia. Change your world.”)

They said that Tucci “was” Paul, and marvelled at how he could be “so right” about the characterization, as there is not that much film with him. I’d love to let Mr. Tucci know how much love was aimed at him that evening. Jim Dodge was particularly touched at how Julia and Paul’s “romance, and true, deep and abiding love” was portrayed. He apparently took Julia to see her kitchen in the Smithsonian, after Paul had passed. Her only comment was “Gosh, I wish Paul could see this.” Shirley also said that the house that they picture (the big white one) “Must have actually been” Paul and Julia’s – because she had been there many times, and “if that wasn’t THE actual house, it’s exactly perfectly like it.”

But back to Ivan (Dorothy’s husband). Yes, he really was that little. At their home, Dorothy had built up the kitchen counters so she (and Julia) could cook better – and Ivan cooking or chopping literally had to raise up his elbows like a little kid. Mom always relates in their later years, how Ivan would just look at Dorothy who would sometimes come out with off-the-wall comments (a la Julia) and his eyes would get soft and he would say “Isn’t she just WONDERFUL?”

Mom and Dad also had Dorothy and Ivan over for dinner at one point, and Ivan took the chair that my mother usually took. He looked a bit startled, and then Mom realized that our big white Persian-ish cat, Samson, had hopped in Ivan’s lap, as that is what he would do to Mom. Mom was horrified, but Ivan smiled and said, “Leave it to Sally-Jean to provide a living napkin. How warm and welcoming.”

What else did I learn from the panel? Tidbits that I Tweeted about:

1.  They felt that it’s important to read the book “My Life in France.” They said that the author reminded Julia of Paul when he was young – and they feel that’s why she was so open in it.

2.  Julia hated lines, but did stand in line for Graceland, “Because that’s just a must-see.”

3. Julia was a breast cancer survivor and lots of organizations were ‘annoyed’ she wouldn’t support them. However, the panelist stated that Julia “was earthy, but she was a lady. And she felt that we just don’t talk about that.”

4. Words used for Julia over and over by the Panel: Humility  and Curiosity. 

5. Jim Dodge had a couple of stories about Julia that were great. He apparently had a red truck in Santa Barbara, and got sideboards specifically for Julia so she could “step up” and into the cab. He also told a hilarious story about Julia finding out about “cat sex” – you can ask if you want to hear it (has to do with unmatched kittens). Finally, apparently they were together at a big important dinner, and a woman sitting by Julia was continually bragging about her jewelry and flaunting it. Julia took it for a while and finally just looked her in the eyes, jut out her wrist, and said loudly, “‘LOOK at my WATCH! $9.95!!” It shut her right up…

6.  Mrs. [Marguerite ?] Mondavi mentioned that as they got older, the women would get together and talk about various “cures” and “miracles” and “concoctions,” and going to see “Dr. this and that for this and that,” for their various aches and pains. Julia listened for a while and said, “Why don’t you just take some Tylenol and rest and stop complaining about it?” Made me laugh.

7. There was a lot of talk about Julie – her affair, why Julia said what she did, how Julia received her blog (which she did read). Not that important to go into here.

8. Mom said if she could sum Julia up, she was Julia was “bawdy, fun, LOVED food and wine, and was  truly devoted to her husband.” My heroine!!

SO (wow, long post, but I post so seldom now, wanted to get this out!) – this all made me take down some of the cookbooks that Rosie had given to me. They have great comments – for example:

Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Volume I, first edition): ”Rosie and Abe – Who have been in on this from before the beginning. Let us cook many more great meals together. Julia.” “A le premiere cuisiniere Americaine, avec toute mon admiration et mes compliments. Simone Beck.” “October 1971 And – after 10 years MORE of friendship: These further signatures, as a symbol of continuance and pleasure. Paul Child.” and after that “Julia” with a little heart with an arrow through it.

Mastering The Art of French Cooking (Volume II, first edition): “To Rosie – our favorite cook, with infinite pleasure in all the shared tastes, smells, sights, feelings & sounds over the years, from 1948 to today (1971). Paul Child. Julia Child.”

In BOTH of these books, if you page through it, you can see cross-outs and annotations, as obviously Rosie tried various recipes and “fixed” them (wonder if she told Julia – e.g., if any of these are in the later editions?) They are splattered beyond belief – love that.

From Julia Child’s Kitchen (First edition): “FOR ROSIE!!! From two loving eaters, pussy-strokers, Kauaian swimmers, ex-Marse(i)lle(?) pals (lousy spellers), adorers and creators of le carrillon de l’amitie pour toi. Paul & Julia” with a big heart under with an arrow through it.

AND, in Mastering (Vol. I), I found the following recipe (I have a few letters that were in Rosie’s Larousse, to her from Julia when she was trying to perfect Roast Chicken, but I’m too tired of all this typing to put those in – just let me know if you want’em…):

Dated 1965, typed on a typewriter, lots of cross-outs, etc. on St. Francis Hotel stationery, Union Square, San Francisco, CA:

PATE BRISEE FINE (a la Wondra Machine)

1-1/2 cups granular flour

3 tablespoons chilled Crisco

1stick chilled butter cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Put flour, Crisco and butter in bowl of electric mixer and mix at low speed for a minute or two until mixture looks like very coarse meal.

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon sugar

1/3 cup very cold water

Dissolve salt and sugar into water; pour into flour mixture and blend for about half a minute, or until dough masses in blade of mixer.

Turn dough out onto marble. Shape into a rough mass, then complete final blending by pushing nut-sized pieces of it with the heel of your hand out and away from you in a rough, quick 6-inch smear. Scrape dough into a mass again, knead rapidly into a ball, flour lightly, and wrap in waxed paper. Chill for 2 hours or over night. (Rest is necessary to re-hydrate flour, to relax gluten, and to harden butter.)

UPSIDE-DOWN PASTRY SHELLS: Roll dough about 1/8 inch thick. Butter outside of a cake tin, turn upside down, and press dough on it. Even off to a depth of 1 inch with a ravioli wheel. Prick all over (including sides) with a sharp-pronged table fork. Chill for an hour or two (this again relaxes gluten, preventing shell from baking out of shape). Bake at 425 degrees, 7 to 8 minutes for a partially baked shell (for quiches), 4 to 5 minutes longer for fully baked shell.

PROPORTIONS FOR LARGE BATCH (4 times above):

6 cups flour

12 TB Crisco

4 sticks butter

_____________________

2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp sugar

1-1/3 cups water

P.S.: The line in the movie where Dorothy and Julia are looking in the mirror, and “Dorothy” says the “We look good….well, good, but not great” line was actually Rosie! I just found it, page 82, in My Life In France by Prud’homme. I’ll be doggoned! Some “poetic license” – but then again, bringing Rosie and Abe into the calculus (another tall woman, ambassador, childless couple who were Julia and Paul’s best friends) would have probably just confused the narrative. :-)

Well, so, that’s all I have to say for today. :-)

More 40s and 8s and by slow stages we got to Is-Sur-Tille (Cote d’Or) where we stayed in the freight yards several days, finally moving on to Langres from where we hiked to St. Geomes (Haute Marne) and another barn for a few days. A 40 and 8 is a freight car supposed to carry 40 men or 8 horses. As it said “Quarante hommes ou huit chevaux.” Langres was A.P.O. 714 which was Warren’s A.P.O. for a while. [note - not sure who Warren is, but that's a family first name for us so probably kin.] I did not see Warren, but he wrote me a letter from there. I recall washing clothes on the flat stones besides the ladies of the neighborhood. One day we hiked to a cave of Sabinus and saw a little spring that was the source of the Marne.

Next move was to some place near to the front lines, going by truck. I think it was called St. Jean. There we lived in dugouts and for the first time were issued sidearms (45s). The Signal Corps is a non-combatant unit and “is supposed to fire only in self defense.” One of our boys, Quigley, drew a picture of our dugout, #9, and I have a copy of it drawn by Myra’s cousin, Mrs. Burnham of Bristol. [Note: I have this framed, but in a box in the attic.] Our dugout was noted for rats, who would skid on the metal cans of hard candy we had bought from the YMCA in Langres, and land on our faces, then scurry away. One of our boys was Jim Ballantine, whom we called the “Iowa Bearcat.” Once when he was asleep someone lifted up the end of his blanket and pinched his toe. He jumped and I never in my life heard such a yell. One of the pleasant(?) jobs was to go into the rainy woods and roll up the Germans’ rusty barbed wire – the Germans had been driven back. I remember the cook making flapjacks and turning them over with a saw. He would flex the saw, put one end under a pancake and it would go 5 or 6 feet in the air, turn over several times, and land on the uncooked side. I was fascinated by the performance and watched him do it several times without missing once.

Our next move was to Mousson Hill, next to Pont a Mousson. There was a Church standing on top of the hill. It was said that the Germans didn’t knock it down because they wanted to use the steeple to sight on in firing.

Our wireless station was dug out of solid rock on the French side of the hill, and there was only a footpath for access to it, with a sheer drop in front. The first signals we heard when our set was in business was NAD, Charlestown, Mass. navy yard.

The next morning we boarded a train and set off in the general direction of London. I was hopeful we were going through London, but a few miles short of there we turned off and pulled up on the Docks at Southampton. The Harbor was very busy and I saw the Narraganset! It looked like home and I realized what we were missing in England were Indian names.

On the docks at Southampton all the boys who were in evidence were put to work, but a few including me managed to keep out of the way behind piles of barracks bags and slept off the afternoon.

We got on a little Channel steamer and cast off in the middle of the night. We steamed as fast as possible across the English Channel with no zigzagging as had been done across the Atlantic. Rain began pouring down so everyone went inside and were four or five deep on the floor. Very rough passage and some were seasick. I wasn’t and went back on deck to avoid them.

Sunny France at last!! Charbourg at 3:30 a.m. pitch dark and pouring rain. After we got organized we started up a steep hill. Some of the boys started to sing and were promptly ordered to “shut up, the Germans will hear you.” With the rain pouring down and pitch dark, if any Germans were within 200 miles they were in a plane whose engines roared so loud one couldn’t hear himself think let alone soldiers singing, on the ground, to keep up their courage.

Next day I was on Guard duty and saw my first duty as an American soldier in France and I was to keep Portuguese soldiers out of a British Rest Camp. They had a camp nearby and tried to get in for more food, so it was said. They were all tall and big men, much larger than I and I had no arms of any kind, but I looked as fierce as possible and told them no admission, so they all turned around as meekly as possible, to my surprise and relief. Don’t remember how long we were in this camp, but came down to Cherbourg to a troop train. On the way down we passed a house where someone said Dumas wrote Les Trois Mousquetaires.

This train was composed of 40 and 8 cars. The first we had seen, but far from the last. Finally we started in the direction of Paris. Stopped in the freight yards of Caen (a good sized city, home of one of the professors I had at Besancon. Think it was Chauvenet, the Chemistry one, but am not sure.) Stayed there some time and on the next track was a string of freight cars, each composed of two immense wooden barrels. The word got around that this was wine, so a lot of boys got some in their mess kit cups. All you had to do was turn a spigot at the bottom of the barrel. However it was very cheap and very sour “pinard” issued to the “frogs” which is what the French soldiers were called in camp. Very few of us, if any, went back for seconds on the wine.

One of the unpopular aspects was the necessity of a daily shower. The shower room opened on the deck at both ends (no doors). A cold salt water shower in mid-Atlantic with a stiff wind blowing on you is not the most comfortable thing in the world, and it is also hard to dry off from a salt water shower.

Two days (although we didn’t know that) from the other side, two U.S.A. 4-stack destroyers appeared and how the boys cheered to see them, the Stars and Stripes. They were fast too, and kept circling the whole convoy, and once included a submarine scare and I thought sure we were hit. However, it was our guns. We had one in the stern. When our guns were fired the old cattle boat just shivered with the recoil.

The night before we landed those who could find a place were allowed to sleep outside. I found a place on one of the forward hatches and with overcoast under me and poncho over me went to sleep. About 3 a.m. came a driving rain. With the first few drops I wakened and retired to the Orlop deck and the poncho kept off most of the rain, but some of the boys were soaked to the skin.

LAND and were we glad to see it. We separated from the rest of the convoy and sailed up the Govars Estuary, docking at Cardiff, Wales on July 31st. I understand it was the only American Ship to land there during the War.

Solid ground again! What a welcome we got from the inhabitants!! It must have seemed miraculous to the war weary people, who had been at war for nearly 4 years, to see a shipload of soldiers appear from over the horizon, to be on their side.

Cardiff reminded me a lot of Boston – narrow crooked streets and buildings of 7 or 8 stories (the limit in Boston at that time). We marched, full pack, up the main street to the Welch [sic] Capitol building. It was extremely hot and carrying full pack and coming from weeks of relative inactivity many fell out and sat on the curb. As soon as a soldier did this a native would rush to him with a drink from a nearby Pub, and seeing this more and more feel out. When we got to the Capitol Plaza they played the Star Spangled Banner and while standing at attention several passed out.

+++++++++++++++++++

July 8 or 9th we got on the troop train and headed for New Hampshire. I was pretty excited when we stopped at Tilton for a few minutes, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. The curtains had to be down, but for some reason I was on “guard” and could go from one car to another so I stayed on the platform for some time hoping to at least see the taxi man, who would have told Father he had seen me – but no such luck. I had never seen beyond The Weirs, so Plymouth, West Rumney, Woodsville also was new to me. (Little did I suspect My Future – 1931 – was living in West Rumney, New Hampshire. I wonder if she saw the train go by.) [This was a note with respect to my grandmother - and the best part is the NEXT note is written BY my grandmother - MES - Myra E. Shepard!!] (NOTE: In July 1918 I was at home in summer, South Wentworth, but lived in Orford during the school year. MES) Near the Canadian border, the milkmen were just arriving and htey had dish pans of real cream that were passed around and everyone had a big drink. I remember how good it tasted.

Eventually we got to Montreal and backed down to the wharf and got our first sight of “HMT” Durham Castle, an old cattle boat used between England and South Africa. The “HMT” stood for “His Majesty’s Transport,” but it was always referred to as His Majesty’s Tub and was our home for the next three weeks. I was assigned to the orlop deck, two decks below waterline. The bunks were five high and htere was a great scramble to get the topmost. I got one next to the top, and luckily the fellow above me wasn’t seasick. Came up on deck in time to see us pull out and a fellow on the pier semaphored “Bon Voyage.” Started down the St. Lawrence River, but ran into a sandbar at Three Rivers, after a while we got off and the next morning passed quite near Charlettetown P.E.I.  Sunday morning and we could hear Church bells. Very peaceful passage and smooth sailing. However, after leaving the lee of the Island, it was very rough. I remember coming up from below as fast as I could, feeling very seasick. When I got to the deck, someone turned around and saw me and let out a yell so the crowd quickly parted and I got to the rail where a deep breath of fresh air cured me, and I didn’t whoop. Some of the boys seemed to think I put it all on, to get to the rail – but I stayed there! Should say the soldiers had only one deck, and there were so many that only one out of 5 or 6 could get to the rail. All the first class and ohter decks were occupied by the officers, and nursers, about 100. I heard that one officer was disciplined as he was overheard asking a nurse if she wanted to go down “to see the animals feed.”

Finally we got to Halifax and a calm harbor and stayed htere 3 days, until the convoy – 23 ships – among them the Mauretania – assembled. We were near enough to the city to see some remnants of the fire which had wiped out a good many buildings. We saw a long train which we fondly thought had come from Boston. There was one that used ot be at 9 p.m., Boston, whihc was due in Halifax about the time we saw this.

Those who wished could dive in for a swim, but remembering my Still River experience, I didn’t. Once we had to get into a small boat (don’t recall how) then with a pack (knapsack) climb a swinging rope ladder 25 feet or so back up to the boat. I thought I’d never make it! Toward the end I had all I could do to hold on and was glad then hands grabbed me and pulled me in. I guess others were the same and everyone seemed to be pulled in.

In the spring, we went on a hike to Still River, Mass., the artillery range and camped in pup tents, under artillery fire. One night it rained hard and the boys who hadn’t bothered to lie a “traunch” as per directions, got soaked. Glad to say my tentmates and I stayed dry. Coming back to Devens, 5 miles or so, I got a ride iwth a motorcycle carrier. I rode behind him on the baggage rack; I stuck on, but wished I had walked.

Our mess sergeant was a fellow named Carroll, from Lawrence, Mass. Among other things, he had to figure on an allowance of 37-1/2 cents a day, per man, for food. Once I happened to see him scratching his head on his figuring, so I did a little very simple figuring for him. He was amazed and wanted me to keep on. I pretended it was very complicated (as he thought) but said I’d try it, if I was free of other duties (fatigues, KP, etc.) As the company was doing nothing but moving a big pile of coal, in wheelbarrows, from one place to another and back again to take up the time, I didn’t feel I was shirking anything. Carroll jumped at the chance and said I could be “dining room orderly” and have nothing to do but figure out meals. So I strung out a 15 minute job to about 2 hours, accompanied by considerable sweat, which he thought was normal. I kept this job for about 6 weeks, until I got sick of it, and went back to moving the coal pile. Another thing during my tenure as DRO, the company was quarantined for measles, with only the officers being allowed to leave camp. (Apparently the officers wouldn’t spread measles!) Since I had to go to Ayer to the bank every week, I got a pass. This, by the way, was one of the inducements to taking the “job.” Prior to the DRO I got the German measles and was in the camp hospital for a while. I don’t remember how long. In the hospital room were two rows of beds, probably 12 to a row. About all I remember is that early in the morning basins of water were distributed and everyone had to get up and wash (scrub) his bed.

Out at Still River I am sure Harold Holliday saved my life. There was a Lake and everybody had to go swimming. I got a cramp, or something, and couldn’t swim and sank, then came to the surface and yelled for help. Harold was about 10 feet away and grabbed me as I was going under and towed me to shore.

I was initiated into Masonry while I was at Camp Devens. Getting a pass to go home was uncertain, so the Master (Dunbar Seamans) got a special dispensation in order for me to have the 2nd and 3rd degrees the same night. The Lodge at Ayers, by request, “worked” many soldiers for other Lodges, therefore had a meeting at least 5 times a week. After I became a Mason, I could, and did, visit their lodge a good many times. Which was more pleasant than staying in the Barracks if you weren’t on duty – such as fatigues, KP, stables, etc. After the War during our last year in Harvard College, Harold Holliday’s father was District Deputy Grand Master for the district around Boston. He had a visitation twice a month or oftener and always had two extra tickets (for banquets no doubt – he [Grampa] stopped there. steno [this might have been my grandmother)]

Several times I got an overnight pass to go home and would take the trolley to N. Chemsford and the train from there to Franklin [New Hampshire]. The trolley was always packed and the train always stopped at N. Chelmsford for the soldiers. Towards the end of spring I got a 3 day pass to go to Bangor [Maine] and see hte folks there. That was a “furlough pass” and 1 cent per mile was in effect, and a form had to accompany the request and there was only one form available, so I paid $2.50 one way and nearer $10 to come back. Great! About June we turned in the heavy woolens and got khaki uniforms which felt fine and lasted two weeks, when we went back to the woolies for overseas. Of course, all sorts of rumors were around and it was understood the quartermaster’s corps was the only ongoing overseas so I applied for a transfer. However, the whole division went, so I withdrew my application.

Some of the artillery, having been drafting, came by and got sore and they wrote to the Boston Herald and they printed it, that while we enlisted, wedid it to escape the draft, and so we could choose the Signal Corps, the “least dangerous” branch. A few days later our Major Fanning, who after the war was Chief of Operations at Filene’s station, had a letter printed in the Herald where he said “in response to the artillery” he had looked up on Company A and found that all but one were under 21 and that the “one” was over 30, so they wouldn’t have been drafted as the draft age was 21 to 30. Furthermore, the enlistee could choose his branch, and “these boys” chose the Signal Corps, the second most ~dangerous~ in the Army – the Engineers being the first, most dangerous. That statistics showed that the Signal Corps was eleven times more dangerous than the Artillery! That shut them up, but we had to take up the stones as it created bad feeling. I have a picture of those stones.

We practiced the semaphore and wigwag and had two sending sets. One on the end of a truck powered by the engine. It was an old white Truck and the transmission had an extra speed to turn the generator. The other was a hand generator which turned like a grind stone (very hard).

We were supposed to be mounted, and eventually the horses came, “direct from the West” as we were told. None of us, or very few, knew anything about horses, so everyone tried to pick a horse as lethargic looking as possible. As a matter of fact, T. W. Harris’ horse “Two Bits” stopped during a ride, lay down, and went to sleep. T.W. got off and I guess waited until the horse woke up. My horse “Pegasus” never did anything, but a slow walk, for which I was thankful, until one day two of us met a motorcycle. In spite of all we could do, our horses turned around, took after the motorcycle, and passed him. He later said he was going 25 miles per hour. The horses headed for the barn and when nearly there, made a right angle turn at full speed. I wasn’t ready for that so made only part of the turn and landed on a pile of ice. My companion, can’t remember who he was, wasn’t as fortunate. He stuck on until the horse entered the barn, when a beam over the door struck him full in the face and knocked him unconscious. No bones broken though.

One other horse incident. On Christmas Day 1917, I was on “stable duty” (detail) and had to see that no horse or mule was loose. Usually several were and they had to be tied up. I started to enter one stall and got kicked in the knee, doubling it backwards (I thought) but I landed in the opposite stall, the only empty one of the 36. I don’t like to think what would have happened had I landed in the stall of another horse.

That winter of 1917 was cold. Once I saw the thermometer 55 below zero. I have a picture of the boys wearing their overcoats and trying to keep warm near the “furnace” in the center of the barracks.

Born: August 23, 1896 in Bangor, Maine (his mother’s home)

Enlisted in the Signal Corps, May 10, 1917

Landed in Cardiff, Wales on July 31st having left by Troop Train on July 8th or 9th for trip overseas.

Arrived at the front lines near the end of August.

Armistice, then stayed at Saizerais detailed to YMCA until March 2, 1919.

Attended Besancon University from March 5 to June 25.

Return: On July 9 left France and arrived in Hoboken July 17th, discharged at Mitchell Field July 23 and finally home July 24, 1919.

Written from memory and with the help of diaries kept while in the service and at Besancon, in March 1975 while recuperating from a heart attack on February 1, 1975.

The diaries have, of course, day by day detail of the YMCA period and also of the college months.

I don’t remember when I first became interested in science, particularly physics. However, four classmates of Franklin High School 1914, built “wireless sets.” (Henry Prescott, Maurice Gilchrist, Harry Atkins and I.) Father had a lumber lot and he had a tall straight tree brought home (106 Prospect Street), and placed back of the house, like this:

1

1

1 house

and all of us boys, working together, made an “umbrella” antenna, wires like the ribs of an umbrella supposed to receive from all directions. Worked good – got SL1 (Sayville, Long Island), NAD (Charlestown Navy Yard), hte station on top of Filene’s (first station in Boston), official time from NAA (Arlington, Virginia). My greatest thrill was in 1912, listening to messages from the Carpathia picking up survivors from the Titanic.

Since the physics teacher in high school didn’t even mention “electricity” (a most important part of physics), I went to Andover for a year so I could get into Harvard. At Harvard during the freshman year, I joined the Wireless Club (4-25-16). The “Manager” of the club was a boy named Dallin, son of  the sculptor Cyrus Dallin who made the statue “Appeal to the Great Spirit.”

Newt Monk and I, on the same shift, logged stations all over the world: FL, The Eiffel Tower; YN, Lyons, France; Australia, etc. Many funny things (incidents) like the amateur who was very slow on the code got another to slow down and told him he was in Brookline, Massachusetts where it was bitterly cold and a lot of snow. The other said he was in Los Angeles, his window was open and the aroma of roses was coming in! We looked up the call letters and “Los Angeles” was just around the corner from “Brookline”!

My greatest “thrill” here was when the Tufts College station kept calling until most others were off the air, then said “Do you want to hear some music?” Everyone jumped on his key and said:

– .– — / . / … / (“Yes”)

Then we heard a very tinny Yankee Doodle. It sounded wonderful, the first time any of us had heard anything but dots and dashes.

So I took mostly sciences and when a recruiter named Russell came around several of us enlisted in The Signal Corps, May 10, 1917.  War had been declared April 6, 1917. The recruiter said we would be in the 26th, Yankee, Division and train at Ashbury Park, NJ, but we got to the 76th (draftees) division and trained at Camp Devens, Mass.

In World War I, there was considerable feeling between the enlistees and the draftees. When we landed in Fort Devens, we were the only enlisted outfit in the division. We whitewashed some stones in front of Company A, mostly from Harvard, and B from Dartmouth and C (general), but A was the “Wireless” Company barracks. We made the signal flags (insignia) and the words 301st Radio Volunteers. It is the first time I remember the word “Radio” being used.

[That's enough for today! :-)]