by Cathy Gilmore | Jun 13, 2017 | Features, Stories from the Archive
If a photo is a window into a family’s life, then a letter is the door. This 1904 portrait of the Emma Woolley and Charles Rich Clark family is beautiful, but offers few clues about the challenges, personalities and relationships between these family members.
Today, we transcribed a letter written by Emma Woolley to her husband Charles Rich Clark while he was away serving a church mission in 1892. In this letter we learn that Emma had a migraine, and that the oldest child, Marion, was the serious one who concerned himself with his mother’s help and offered a little prayer on her behalf. We learn that Vernon, the next oldest, was the silly one and said funny things that made his mother and neighbors laugh. We learned how devoted Emma is as a wife, managing the family accounts, nurturing sick children, doing laundry, and settling debts. She closes the letter saying,
“I guess this is not what would be called a love letter but it is written in love all the same, and I am proud of the man I love, and hope to keep ever fresh and alive that affection that exists between us”
To read the full transcription, go to the Ezra T. Clark Family Archive.
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by Cathy Gilmore | Apr 26, 2016 | Letters
To commemorate Dorothy Smith Clark’s birthday on 26 April 1911, here is a transcription of a letter to her fiancé Ellsworth M. Clark. This letter shows her playful personality and hints at the number of suitors Dorothy had. Letter from the Dorothy Smith Clark Archive. -CG
947 Crandall Ave
S.L.C. Utah
April 24/34
Darling,
It seems like I’ll never get a decent-sized letter off to you unless I take a special vacation for the purpose. It’s always a rush & a bang & I never have time to think what I write.
When that picture of you from arr’d yesterday it was so natural of you that it seemed you were right here by me again & has seemed so ever since.
At times it seems ages since you left & all our past looks more like a fairy tale & I wonder if you actually are real & alive. Then comes a picture which proves the fact that you are, and my dreams of you commence to flourish & brighten.
Just last night you were with me and I felt like a newly-crowned princess – if a princess could possibly feel so grand.
(more…)
by Cathy Gilmore | Feb 14, 2016 | Love Letters from the Archive
[Dorothy and Ellsworth become engaged in the Spring of 1933, yet the are still spending summers apart while Ellsworth works in Idaho, and then later when he serves a six-month mission in Colorado. -Cathy]
[Ellsworth to Dorothy, 29 July 1933]
It is evening. The earth is fresh and green from the summers first rain. The sun has set but it is still light so as to see better the soft dewy foliage. It is sweet. The air is so clean and pure it is as if everything was in a preparedness of some sort. I’ll bet it’s just waiting for a lovely Miss Smith who is going to come and visit me for awhile. Yes, I can see her coming. He hair is back over her shoulders and the wind is blowing through it. Her lips are parted and a smile is a welcome to me. She is on her tiptoes and her arms are partly reaching to me in welcome. Her eyes are as stars, yet they shine with no glaring light, rather it is a soft brown glow that speaks of love, acknowledgement, trust and unending spirit. Is she going to get here? It is growing dusk. I’ll go meet her and taking her into my arms, press her gently to me.
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[Ellsworth to Dorothy, 15 December 1933]
Dearest—
Just a note at this late hour to tell you I have not forgotten you and that I’m still alive and happy. The stars seem so low and bright tonight that I yearn for your company. This is truly a beautiful country and the only thing to make it more perfect would be— (you know who).
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[Ellsworth to Dorothy 29 December 1933]
Dearest Little Starlet,
I’m oozing with sentiment tonight. The moon is full and my thoughts run tenderly along such lines as boat rids on a lagoon, walks in the park when it’s just chilly enough for the arm of your loved one to warm you, and skating on crystal clear ice with a sweetheart on my arm as the cold blue white stars wink and fall in the frosty sky. Then thoughts go back to June nights when the air is burdened with sweet perfume of big copper colored roses and lilac. When grass and ground invites you to linger and muse and in silence wonder at the handiwork of God & his goodness to Man. Two lovers are in bliss as they feel more than they can say, and when the kiss of the betrothed is as a sacrament for themselves, to a greater power than Man. Dreaming of days to come when service and love shall know no bounds and two shall be as one. Blessed children and blessed old age; even death is then beautiful.
It is beautiful tonight. Old Pikes Peak in majestic stillness is in communion with the stars & trees. It is quiet. The noise of city life is not near and as I look out in the dark, it seems you are near. See— I’m talking to you now. I’ll tell you how I love you if you don’t leave. This may seem foolish but you are near. And I know of a surety of my love for you.
________________________
[Ellsworth to Dorothy, 22 February 1934]
“Did you ever see a dream walking? Well, I did” [sketch of musical notes] etc. I saw that a number of times while a good member of the Capitol Hill Ward. Remember the times when we went walking after church. Also, how I could walk home with you from Sunday School & make a date for the evening. I can’t do that now but I can see you walking in dreams. I see you often as I remember you the times we got up early and went up some canyon. Remember the morning we walk up towards Parleys Canyon, and I kissed you right out on the prairie (I mean your mouth). Excuse me I don’t know my anatomy. What I meant to say was: we were standing out on the prarie [sic] in plain view of everybody for miles around, and I kissed, you. You see it was so early the people around were not up yet.
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