Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Title
Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Creator
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958
Identifier
WWP23119
Date
1922 April 3
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
Monday evening
April 3. ‘22
Dearest and Dubbies,
When I read the evening paper in the train to Harwich and saw that a hurricane was, or had been blowing in the Channel, I comforted myself with the thought that I might throw off (or up) my cold in the in subsequent proceedings, This is optimistic pessimism. In which of course I was disappointed, for I turned in and went to sleep, awakening just a quarter of an hour before the bugle blew the reveille. On the Flushing boats they ring a bell instead. I had never felt any discomfort at all, so the sea must have been quite smooth. Sunday morning broke fine, the sun just came above the horizon as I was pacing the station platform at the Hook, where the train stood ready. I just had a cup of tea and a bit of food on board, as I preferred to breakfast on the train because it would be a long time to wait for lunch. The train went through Utrecht and soon after through Bilthoven station, situated in a well wooded part (pine woods) which however had been cleared in many places to make room for jolly little bungalows and country homes; still leaving quite an attractive landscape. At Apeldoorn we ran into quite a little snowstorm, but it didn’t last long. We passed through Hengelo and Oldenzaal and then Bentheim, the first German station, where we had all to get out for the customs which includes examination of the person in a little square box six feet by four. A new rule is that you have to show what money you have, and you get a ticket entitling you to take that much out of the country again when you leave, but not more. This is an attempt to prevent an outflow of the foreign currency which of course is greatly demanded and needed, in Germany to pay their dues under the reparations agreement.
I had been travelling in my compartment with a few Englishmen bound for Hamburg on business, and I had booked my seat in the dining car for lunch which was still on Dutch territory, when one fellow traveller, a Scotchman named MacPherson, discovered that you could have the same lunch at about one quarter of the cost if you waited till the German frontier was passed, so I quickly changed my seat for the “second serving”, much to the Dutch attendant’s annoyance! Of course a Scotchman would discover that! So all merry at the saving of quite five bob per man.
The train arrived again with admirable promptitude at the scheduled minute, 10 p.m. and as I didn’t see Enderis I took a taxi to the hotel and found him there all night at dinner with Smith and Conger. Taxis now charge 20 times the amount on their dial! They are entitled to do that by the municipal authorities.
I received a cordial welcome through which I had to sit altho I would have much preferred to have a bath and into bed. I didn’t get that until well after midnight!
Of course I immediately met old friends; Geo. Renwick and his wife, the famous Brown couple (both complaining of increases in their waist line __ “altho’ we walk miles every day! my dear chap!”
All the big guns are off to Genoa and those who are left pretend they are jolly glad it isn’t them who have to go, but nevertheless they are all frightfully jealous. The guilty Easterling had disappeared to other parts; I heard the most appalling accounts of his goings-on; how he had been thrown out of a dancing hall and had to have several stitches put into his head and had to bribe a German reporter to keep the case out of the papers; and bother with the police &c. &c. Smith had a long tale of woe about him; he seems to have been an awful trouble, and of course would not increase respect the respect for the A.P. which it is our settled policy to acquire wherever we operate – according to the New York rules.
So today I started right in with a message to which I signed my name to let London know I was right on the job.
Smith went off this afternoon at 2 PM and arrives Tuesday night at Genoa. Poor Enderis is of course acting again as general trustee for a host of articles left behind; he says he can’t ask anyone into his rooms now because they are like a warehouse, with books, rugs, carpets, mementoes of all descriptions, boxes, odd lots of boots, clothes and assortments of laundry left behind by Smith, Howe, and goodness knows how many others, who will collect them later or perhaps forget all about them.
I am again in the same room I occupied before ha ha! Central heating! The same old bitter treacherous wind, with intermittent sunshine. Heaps of snow I saw last night on station platforms where it had been swept together, but there is none in the streets or in the open country. But I am glad of my big coat anyway.
All the hotel staff seemed to recognize me, which I think is rather remarkable. I have the same surly looking chambermaid but even she expanded into a grin, likewise the boots who looks as tho’ he is bearing all the world’s woes on his shoulders.
More next time, love to all you dears. from Dad.
April 3. ‘22
Dearest and Dubbies,
When I read the evening paper in the train to Harwich and saw that a hurricane was, or had been blowing in the Channel, I comforted myself with the thought that I might throw off (or up) my cold in the in subsequent proceedings, This is optimistic pessimism. In which of course I was disappointed, for I turned in and went to sleep, awakening just a quarter of an hour before the bugle blew the reveille. On the Flushing boats they ring a bell instead. I had never felt any discomfort at all, so the sea must have been quite smooth. Sunday morning broke fine, the sun just came above the horizon as I was pacing the station platform at the Hook, where the train stood ready. I just had a cup of tea and a bit of food on board, as I preferred to breakfast on the train because it would be a long time to wait for lunch. The train went through Utrecht and soon after through Bilthoven station, situated in a well wooded part (pine woods) which however had been cleared in many places to make room for jolly little bungalows and country homes; still leaving quite an attractive landscape. At Apeldoorn we ran into quite a little snowstorm, but it didn’t last long. We passed through Hengelo and Oldenzaal and then Bentheim, the first German station, where we had all to get out for the customs which includes examination of the person in a little square box six feet by four. A new rule is that you have to show what money you have, and you get a ticket entitling you to take that much out of the country again when you leave, but not more. This is an attempt to prevent an outflow of the foreign currency which of course is greatly demanded and needed, in Germany to pay their dues under the reparations agreement.
I had been travelling in my compartment with a few Englishmen bound for Hamburg on business, and I had booked my seat in the dining car for lunch which was still on Dutch territory, when one fellow traveller, a Scotchman named MacPherson, discovered that you could have the same lunch at about one quarter of the cost if you waited till the German frontier was passed, so I quickly changed my seat for the “second serving”, much to the Dutch attendant’s annoyance! Of course a Scotchman would discover that! So all merry at the saving of quite five bob per man.
The train arrived again with admirable promptitude at the scheduled minute, 10 p.m. and as I didn’t see Enderis I took a taxi to the hotel and found him there all night at dinner with Smith and Conger. Taxis now charge 20 times the amount on their dial! They are entitled to do that by the municipal authorities.
I received a cordial welcome through which I had to sit altho I would have much preferred to have a bath and into bed. I didn’t get that until well after midnight!
Of course I immediately met old friends; Geo. Renwick and his wife, the famous Brown couple (both complaining of increases in their waist line __ “altho’ we walk miles every day! my dear chap!”
All the big guns are off to Genoa and those who are left pretend they are jolly glad it isn’t them who have to go, but nevertheless they are all frightfully jealous. The guilty Easterling had disappeared to other parts; I heard the most appalling accounts of his goings-on; how he had been thrown out of a dancing hall and had to have several stitches put into his head and had to bribe a German reporter to keep the case out of the papers; and bother with the police &c. &c. Smith had a long tale of woe about him; he seems to have been an awful trouble, and of course would not increase respect the respect for the A.P. which it is our settled policy to acquire wherever we operate – according to the New York rules.
So today I started right in with a message to which I signed my name to let London know I was right on the job.
Smith went off this afternoon at 2 PM and arrives Tuesday night at Genoa. Poor Enderis is of course acting again as general trustee for a host of articles left behind; he says he can’t ask anyone into his rooms now because they are like a warehouse, with books, rugs, carpets, mementoes of all descriptions, boxes, odd lots of boots, clothes and assortments of laundry left behind by Smith, Howe, and goodness knows how many others, who will collect them later or perhaps forget all about them.
I am again in the same room I occupied before ha ha! Central heating! The same old bitter treacherous wind, with intermittent sunshine. Heaps of snow I saw last night on station platforms where it had been swept together, but there is none in the streets or in the open country. But I am glad of my big coat anyway.
All the hotel staff seemed to recognize me, which I think is rather remarkable. I have the same surly looking chambermaid but even she expanded into a grin, likewise the boots who looks as tho’ he is bearing all the world’s woes on his shoulders.
More next time, love to all you dears. from Dad.
Original Format
Letter
To
Bouman Family
Files
Collection
Citation
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958, “Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family,” 1922 April 3, WWP23119, Jon Anthony Bouman Collection, Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum, Staunton, Virginia.