Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Title
Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Creator
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958
Identifier
WWP23155
Date
1927 December 10
Description
Letter from Jon Bouman to his family.
Source
Gift of William C. and Evelina Suhler
Subject
Poland
Poland--History--1918-1945
Correspondence
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
Sunday evening
Dec. 10, 27
Dearest;
My luck has held out up to the present, for although the cold has been somewhat severe, it has been fair, which was extremely fortunate, for journeying about eastern Europe in winter time is no joke when the weather is bad. Houses and trains are well warmed, but the getting about is difficult then.
I have been having quite a romantic trip and am supposed to be nothing less than a director of the Associated Press, also a Doctor, and what not. The Vilna radio yesterday put out a notice that the learned Doctor Janus Bouman had been honouring the city with a visit and had inspected the frontier.
You would have laughed if you had seen me in a sheepskin fur coat from head to heels in which I was photographed (with my bowler hat on, which was ridiculously incongruous) talking with a Polish officer. A Polish admiral offered to lend me an aviator’s fur cap and fur boots up to the thighs; I thought he was pulling my leg and surely the shaggy sheepskin would be sufficient but I had occasion to rue it for my feet were nearly frozen off. It was a brilliant day, a lovely winter landscape with dark pine woods and a gorgeous sunset over the perfectly still countryside. But the cold was intense. With the sun shining, one thinks on going out that it really cannot be so cold, but after awhile your face begins to tingle and one begins to feel how cold it really is. The people of the country know and wrap themselves up in the most odd-looking garments until you see nothing but their noses.
These Polish officers are extremely smart and courtesy itself. They stood at the salute at the door of my car until it pleased me to say “home, James” or words to that effect. A Polish admiral who saw me home insisted on coming into the vestibule “to see me into the warm” as he put it, instead of saying goodbye at the door.
From Vilna I travelled overnight in a sleeping car to Warsaw where I arrived this morning. I think I shall return to Berlin Monday night, as Mlle. Chrzanowska, our local correspondent, got a wire from Enderis asking if she knew when I would be returning.
On my arrival I was immediately hauled off to a lunch of foreign correspondents where I was regarded as “the man who knows.”
I had great trouble in finding a hotel on my arrival here early this morning. I drove around in a taxi, went to seven hotels, all full up, -- so they said – and finally landed in a miserable fifth rate place, from which I phoned to Chrzanowska who promptly raised a terrific row with the Portier of this hotel, asking him what the devil he meant by turning away such an “important” personage as myself, and lo and behold, a miracle happened and quite a nice room appeared out of the void. So once more we are in the midst of civilization; this is the hotel where Kent Cooper stayed, although I suppose he had a more expensive room. The Poles don’t know how to run hotels, everything is slipshod, give me Germans for efficiency!
I am off now to get some tea and cakes for which Warsaw is famous. It has begun to snow again.
Love to all the birdss,
from Jac
Dec. 10, 27
Dearest;
My luck has held out up to the present, for although the cold has been somewhat severe, it has been fair, which was extremely fortunate, for journeying about eastern Europe in winter time is no joke when the weather is bad. Houses and trains are well warmed, but the getting about is difficult then.
I have been having quite a romantic trip and am supposed to be nothing less than a director of the Associated Press, also a Doctor, and what not. The Vilna radio yesterday put out a notice that the learned Doctor Janus Bouman had been honouring the city with a visit and had inspected the frontier.
You would have laughed if you had seen me in a sheepskin fur coat from head to heels in which I was photographed (with my bowler hat on, which was ridiculously incongruous) talking with a Polish officer. A Polish admiral offered to lend me an aviator’s fur cap and fur boots up to the thighs; I thought he was pulling my leg and surely the shaggy sheepskin would be sufficient but I had occasion to rue it for my feet were nearly frozen off. It was a brilliant day, a lovely winter landscape with dark pine woods and a gorgeous sunset over the perfectly still countryside. But the cold was intense. With the sun shining, one thinks on going out that it really cannot be so cold, but after awhile your face begins to tingle and one begins to feel how cold it really is. The people of the country know and wrap themselves up in the most odd-looking garments until you see nothing but their noses.
These Polish officers are extremely smart and courtesy itself. They stood at the salute at the door of my car until it pleased me to say “home, James” or words to that effect. A Polish admiral who saw me home insisted on coming into the vestibule “to see me into the warm” as he put it, instead of saying goodbye at the door.
From Vilna I travelled overnight in a sleeping car to Warsaw where I arrived this morning. I think I shall return to Berlin Monday night, as Mlle. Chrzanowska, our local correspondent, got a wire from Enderis asking if she knew when I would be returning.
On my arrival I was immediately hauled off to a lunch of foreign correspondents where I was regarded as “the man who knows.”
I had great trouble in finding a hotel on my arrival here early this morning. I drove around in a taxi, went to seven hotels, all full up, -- so they said – and finally landed in a miserable fifth rate place, from which I phoned to Chrzanowska who promptly raised a terrific row with the Portier of this hotel, asking him what the devil he meant by turning away such an “important” personage as myself, and lo and behold, a miracle happened and quite a nice room appeared out of the void. So once more we are in the midst of civilization; this is the hotel where Kent Cooper stayed, although I suppose he had a more expensive room. The Poles don’t know how to run hotels, everything is slipshod, give me Germans for efficiency!
I am off now to get some tea and cakes for which Warsaw is famous. It has begun to snow again.
Love to all the birdss,
from Jac
Original Format
Letter
To
Bouman Family
Files
Collection
Citation
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958, “Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family,” 1927 December 10, WWP23155, Jon Anthony Bouman Collection, Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum, Staunton, Virginia.