Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Title
Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Creator
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958
Identifier
WWP23129
Date
1923 December 14
Description
Letter from Jon Bouman to his family.
Source
Gift of William C. and Evelina Suhler
Subject
Germany--History--1918-1933
Correspondence
Berlin, Germany
Contributor
Rachel Dark
Denise Montgomery
Language
English
Requires
PROOFREADING
Provenance
Evelina Suhler is the granddaughter of Jon Anthony Bouman and inherited the family collection of his letters from the years of World War I. She and her husband gave the letters to the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum in 2013.
Text
Hotel Adlon,
Berlin
Dec. 14 1923.
Dearest;
I was glad to hear by your last letter that little Isobel had got over the crisis; I do hope there will be no relapse; the parents will have had to be most careful ; but Mr. MacKenzie will, I am sure, take no chances. It is a good thing he knows what to do; I am quite useless in a case like that, except to fetch and carry, if I am told what to do.
I don’t think it can be our Pugh whose maid committed suicide, as he lives in Landseer Rd, and this one’s address is given as Cedar Rd. Let’s hope it isn’t; it’s a nasty thing to have happen in one’s house.
I would have written last night, but I went to an organ recital at the Cathedral here; I will enclose the programme; you see there were pieces played with cello and violin accompaniment which were divine. Afterwards I went to the office and against expectation found a lot of work, so didn’t get the letter written.
The other day I went by invitation to see the Austrian Relief Commission’s work. They have opened a feeding place for the indigent middle classes in the Kaiser’s old palace, so that’s where I got my meal. One of the vast tiled kitchens has been turned into a restaurant and bakery, turning out excellent food. Every customer is provided with a ticket valid for a month and every case in investigated first. At the head is a committee of Viennese ladies with a manageress who runs the show; she looks rather like Miss Lloyd but quite grey but she is a live wire! She was here there and everywhere, wanted to tell us all about the work, but interrupted every few seconds, jumped up and about all the time. I said, “You must be tired when the day’s work is over!” She answered: “I am never tired!”
Next day the new chancellor, Marx, received the foreign correspondents at his official residence; of course I was there, and he made half an hour’s harangue standing like a stookey and never moving a muscle of his face. He looked just like an undertaker, with a bald shiny head. I had visited his predecessor Rathenau, -- who was murdered – and so I was able to say that he said about the same: “Germany couldn’t do any more” &c. So without being much impressed, we were rather sorry for the man with an impossible job on his hands like that of running The German Reich.
I think that is all the news I have about my doings this week. Oh I forgot, I went to lunch with Edwin Wilcox who has an office just behind the Kaiser’s palace, but he doesn’t live there. He lives at a hotel in Charlottenburg out west, and walks to and from every day. He says it’s the only way of getting any exercise, and I am quite in agreement with him.
My next door neighbor at the Adlon is a disagreeable cuss; he noisily clears his throat, belches fore and aft regularly every morning getting up and every evening going to bed. He also groans and yawns loudly; I first thought he couldn’t be well, but it seems that’s his habit. Like a battery of machine guns morning and night. I have never seen him, though I have heard him. He is a German, because I have heard him telephoning.
I am afraid this letter won’t be delivered Saturday night, but it ought to be Monday morning. I hope Bill is going on allright with his Spanish and Betty with her violin. It was through Mrs. Kreisler that I had the opportunity of seeing the Austrian Relief Kitchen; of course her husband would be a patron. I should think little Ann would be delighted to be upstairs, and the girls would enjoy it, too.
Maybe next week I shall know something about how long I am to remain here; -- so far it’s the usual cock-eyed three cornered arrangement with no one knowing where the others stand.
With much love to you all dear feeblites,
Thine Jack
Berlin
Dec. 14 1923.
Dearest;
I was glad to hear by your last letter that little Isobel had got over the crisis; I do hope there will be no relapse; the parents will have had to be most careful ; but Mr. MacKenzie will, I am sure, take no chances. It is a good thing he knows what to do; I am quite useless in a case like that, except to fetch and carry, if I am told what to do.
I don’t think it can be our Pugh whose maid committed suicide, as he lives in Landseer Rd, and this one’s address is given as Cedar Rd. Let’s hope it isn’t; it’s a nasty thing to have happen in one’s house.
I would have written last night, but I went to an organ recital at the Cathedral here; I will enclose the programme; you see there were pieces played with cello and violin accompaniment which were divine. Afterwards I went to the office and against expectation found a lot of work, so didn’t get the letter written.
The other day I went by invitation to see the Austrian Relief Commission’s work. They have opened a feeding place for the indigent middle classes in the Kaiser’s old palace, so that’s where I got my meal. One of the vast tiled kitchens has been turned into a restaurant and bakery, turning out excellent food. Every customer is provided with a ticket valid for a month and every case in investigated first. At the head is a committee of Viennese ladies with a manageress who runs the show; she looks rather like Miss Lloyd but quite grey but she is a live wire! She was here there and everywhere, wanted to tell us all about the work, but interrupted every few seconds, jumped up and about all the time. I said, “You must be tired when the day’s work is over!” She answered: “I am never tired!”
Next day the new chancellor, Marx, received the foreign correspondents at his official residence; of course I was there, and he made half an hour’s harangue standing like a stookey and never moving a muscle of his face. He looked just like an undertaker, with a bald shiny head. I had visited his predecessor Rathenau, -- who was murdered – and so I was able to say that he said about the same: “Germany couldn’t do any more” &c. So without being much impressed, we were rather sorry for the man with an impossible job on his hands like that of running The German Reich.
I think that is all the news I have about my doings this week. Oh I forgot, I went to lunch with Edwin Wilcox who has an office just behind the Kaiser’s palace, but he doesn’t live there. He lives at a hotel in Charlottenburg out west, and walks to and from every day. He says it’s the only way of getting any exercise, and I am quite in agreement with him.
My next door neighbor at the Adlon is a disagreeable cuss; he noisily clears his throat, belches fore and aft regularly every morning getting up and every evening going to bed. He also groans and yawns loudly; I first thought he couldn’t be well, but it seems that’s his habit. Like a battery of machine guns morning and night. I have never seen him, though I have heard him. He is a German, because I have heard him telephoning.
I am afraid this letter won’t be delivered Saturday night, but it ought to be Monday morning. I hope Bill is going on allright with his Spanish and Betty with her violin. It was through Mrs. Kreisler that I had the opportunity of seeing the Austrian Relief Kitchen; of course her husband would be a patron. I should think little Ann would be delighted to be upstairs, and the girls would enjoy it, too.
Maybe next week I shall know something about how long I am to remain here; -- so far it’s the usual cock-eyed three cornered arrangement with no one knowing where the others stand.
With much love to you all dear feeblites,
Thine Jack
Original Format
Letter
To
Bouman Family
Files
Collection
Citation
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958, “Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family,” 1923 December 14, WWP23129, Jon Anthony Bouman Collection, Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum, Staunton, Virginia.