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The Dear Bess and Dear Harry Podcast, from Harry S Truman National Historic Site

Harry S Truman

From Harry S Truman National Historic Site; a chance to share some of the stories associated with Harry Truman, Bess W. Truman and their times. We will share letters written between Harry Truman, Bess Wallace Truman, Margaret Truman, and others. We will link to digital versions of the letters in case you'd like to see them. You may need to refresh the page for the latest episode.

Episodes

Dear Bess: June 12, 1945

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for June 12, 2023, a service for you from Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service.

This particular Dear Bess letter was written by President Harry S Truman on this date in 1945. That date marked Truman’s two month anniversary as President, and the two month anniversary of Franklin Roosevelt’s death.

Harry Truman didn’t really want to be president…he would have been content remaining in the Senate, finishing the term he won in 1940, and perhaps serving one more. But he accepted the Vice Presidency in 1944, and was duly elected.

Also affecting Truman deeply was his wife and daughter’s recent departure from the White House. First Lady Bess Wallace Truman went home to Independence to, among other things, supervise some maintenance work on their home at 219 North Delaware Street. It was in dire need of work, with paint peeling, wood rotting…and now it was the home of the President of the United States. (Except that it legally belonged to his mother-in-law, Mrs. Madge Gates Wallace.) It was during this rehab work that the house likely got its first white paint job…and, in fact, it gained the nickname “The Summer White House.”

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

The White House June 12, 1945

Dear Bess:

Just two months ago today, I was a reasonably happy and contented Vice President. Maybe you can remember that far back too. But things have changed so much it hardly seems real.

I sit here in this old house and work on foreign affairs, read reports, and work on speeches--all the while listening to the ghosts walk up and down the hallway and even right in here in the study. The floors pop and the drapes move back and forth--I can just imagine old Andy and Teddy having an argument over Franklin. Or James Buchanan and Franklin Pierce deciding which was the more useless to the country. And when Millard Fillmore and Chester Arthur join in for place and show the din is almost unbearable. But I still get some work done.

Hope the weather lets up and you will be able to do some work on the house. The Gibson boy should have been taken care of long ago. I'll see what's happened. I'm not able to do as many things for my friends now as I did when I was just a dirty organization Democrat and a County Judge.

Guess you and Helen will have a grand time. Hope you do. We are working on Dr. Wallace. Glad everybody was in his right mind at the family party. Undoubtedly they were walking the straight and narrow for your mother. But I'm sure you had a nice time anyway.

That address mixed up is causing me some embarrassment (if that's the way you spell that blushing word). I addressed a letter to you at 4701 Conn. Ave, Independence, MO., and another one 219 North Delaware, Washington, D.C. Now it seems I sent one to the Nolands. The boys in the House here didn't catch that one but they did the other two. I'll have Reathal attend to the chores you suggest. I haven't seen her but twice since you left. She comes in after I go over to the office, usually goes out to lunch and doesn't come back until I am gone again and then goes home before I get over here. Had Charlie Ross and Rosenman to lunch yesterday. We worked on my San Francisco speech. That date is postponed until next week now on account of the slow windup and Gen. Eisenhower's visit. Write me when you can--I hope every day.

Lots of love, Harry

Glad you saw Mamma and Mary

President Harry S Truman wrote this letter to his wife, the new First Lady, on this date in 1945, on his two-month anniversary as President. Mrs. Truman and Margaret had recently returned home to Independence, Missouri to, among other things, do work to make their home look good, knowing that it now had the eyes of the world.

https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/library/truman-papers/correspondence-harry-s-truman-bess-wallace-truman-1921-1959/june-12-1945

Dear Bess: June 8, 1950

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for June 8, 2023, a service of Harry S Truman National Historic Site, in Independence and Grandview Missouri. Thank you for listening…this year our park marks its 40th anniversary. We are humbled that the American people have entrusted us with these incredible stories and resources.

Today’s “Dear Bess” letter was written on this date in 1950. President Harry S Truman wrote to his wife, First Lady Bess Wallace Truman, from a hotel in St. Louis.

It’s a short letter, but has a few interesting tidbits. President Truman refers to a porch…he is referring to a newly-extended porch at their home in Independence, at 219 North Delaware Street. When you visit today, you begin your tour on that same porch. The family extended the porch in 1950, for more room. For privacy, the family allowed the shrubs to grow a little higher, particularly on the north side.

Truman also refers to Mrs. Truman’s mother, Mrs. Madge Gates Wallace. 88 years old at the time of the letter, Mrs. Wallace’s health was failing. Mrs. Wallace preferred to be home in Independence, where she spent half the year. Dr. Wallace Graham, technically General Wallace Graham, was Truman’s physician. He provided medical care for many in the Truman family, including Mrs. Wallace. Towards the end of her life, Mrs. Wallace had many health challenges, and was under the special care of Dr. Graham. Mother Wallace died in December, 1952, just weeks before her son-in-law left the White House. She was 90 years old. Born during the Civil War, she died in the age of atomic weapons and television. Thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

[New Hotel Jefferson, St. Louis, Mo.] June 8, 1950

Dear Bess:

This hotel pen is the one you read about in the funnies. It has made three or four blots and no doubt will make a dozen more before I'm done.

Had a grand flight as I told you and have finish with the politicos. Have been over my Dr.'s Degree speech, talked to Roy Harper, Mary, Ralph and now expect to go to bed when I have finished this note.

Louis' Margaret came out with us to see her mother. Sullivan, Karst and Karsten the three St. Louis congressmen came out with me too. You've never seen three more happy and grateful men. Their records are 100% and I wanted to show my appreciation.

The pictures of the porch are grand. Wish I could sit on it with you and hold your hand.

My farmer nephews seem to have been written up in the Post Dispatch. Haven't seen the article but from all reports it is good. The P.D. must have had an aberartion [sic]!

Dr. Graham will see your mother tomorrow. Hope she's all right.

Say hello to the family.

Lots of love Harry.

I ought to send you this pen!

A short letter, but with a lot in it.

President Truman, in St. Louis, writes to his wife, on the other end of the state, home in Independence, Missouri. Even in 1950, their letters are important to them.

https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/library/truman-papers/correspondence-harry-s-truman-bess-wallace-truman-1921-1959/june-8-1950-2013?documentid=NA&pagenumber=1

Dear Bess: May 26, 1914

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for May 26, 2023, from Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service. This National Park is just about to turn 40 years old. We are grateful to everyone who has made that possible. Today, we especially want to thank the City of Independence, Missouri, and its citizens for their exceptional support and friendship!

On this Memorial Day weekend, 2023, we offer our humble thanks to those who made that ultimate sacrifice, including those who were part of the war that Harry Truman served in, the First World War. Today’s letter was written on this date in 1914. Harry Truman, a partner in the business known as “J.A. Truman & Son, Farmers,” was proud of the paper on which he wrote these amazing letters. Lots of family mentions in this letter. “Louella” refers to Mrs. Louella Campbell Truman, married to Harry Truman’s brother, John Vivian. A few years before this letter was written, John Vivian and Louella married and established their own farm and family. The Hornbuckles were cousins to Harry Truman. Truman’s cousin Myra Colgan Hornbuckle lived to be 94 years old, and survived the future president by just less than 3 years.

And the hat story is wonderful!

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter:

Grandview May 26, 1914

Dear Bess:

I am a day late because I expected to get some good paper to write with yesterday evening and then failed to do it. Mary and I went in after Luella. We took her to see Mrs. White and the Duvalls. They were very much impressed with the kids. Mrs. Duvall thinks the boy looks like me.

We got home at ten o'clock last night. I went downtown and got my gray hat. The hat works had made it look like a 1914 model with a dark gray band and a hand-tied bow. I put it in the back seat to keep it from blowing away, and do you know those two women lost that hat. It is reposing somewhere on Park Avenue between 76th Street and Linwood Boulevard. The car door came open along there somewhere, and they are both of the opinion that it must have been lost out then. I was very much disappointed when I found it gone for I did want to wear it just once. I'll have to buy a straw now, I guess, or another two-dollar cap. Maybe I can go to George's place and get one for a dollar.

I was hoping to see you tomorrow but Luella has decided that she must go back to Amarusia today. If it rains there is no telling when I'll return. We need rain so badly that I don't care if it does rain but I'd hate to get caught down there and not be able to return. Mamma is going along and says that we must return tomorrow. If we do I shall yet see you this week. The Hornbuckles had barely arrived when I did. We both apologized for being late and found that it was entirely unnecessary. The old machine is still running like a clock. I think every time I go out something will surely break this time but nothing has and I'm hoping for the best.

Please to send me a letter this week as it has been some ages since I have had one. I still have your frying pan and spoons, also a fruit jar and a basket. I guess I'll just continue to tote them around until they're needed for another picnic. Anyway I shall try and have them aboard when I get over again.

Most sincerely, Harry

A most charming letter, filled with family tidbits, and a great hat story.

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157639066

Dear Bess: May 19, 1913

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast, from Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service. This National Park is just about to turn 40 years old. We are grateful to everyone who has made that possible. Today, we especially want to thank the City of Independence, Missouri, and its citizens for their exceptional support and friendship!

This is a fun letter, written by Harry S Truman, to his sweetheart, Miss Bess Wallace, on this date in 1913. It’s a fun insight into the inner workings of the Truman farm home in Grandview, Missouri. And it’s always fun to have an insight into Harry Truman’s mother, Mrs. Martha Ellen Truman and his Uncle Harrison Young.

Truman, too, writes a bit about a hired hand that was working for them. We regrettably don’t know a lot about these hired hands, and, prior to things like Social Security records, employers didn’t keep such records. But the stories they could tell!

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

Grandview May 19, 1913

Dear Bess:

How do you appreciate my ability as a weather prophet? We had a small rain out here this morning. I hope you had none and that we'll have more.

I started this letter before breakfast and had to quit because there were so many congregated around the desk to see what I was about. We have the freshest hired man that ever hopped a clod. He has to know where every letter comes from and to whom every one goes. I informed him that I was writing a business letter and it was none of his affair where it went. He immediately got the Sunday Post and said he would peruse the personal column and see if he couldn't find a reason for a business correspondence. He found one which said a rich widow desired to hear from a bachelor of some means, object matrimony. I suppose he is going to investigate. I told him he was no bachelor; he's only twenty-one – a perfect infant. He thinks he's older than I am. I told him I was forty-two my last birthday. He had to go to work with a post auger this morning.

I am sorry the picnic note didn't arrive, but I shall look forward to another one later. Uncle Harry pulled out this morning. He's going to Monegaw Springs in the morning. He says they have the finest set of hillbillies in America down there. They give a formal dance every Wednesday evening during the summer. Full dress consists of a hickory shirt and blue overalls for the men, and red calico dresses for the ladies. They must have a good time. He said he showed them how to dance the pigeon wing and crawfish wire, evidently two very complicated steps if names count for anything. I have an idea that he would make a better instructor in poker and seven-up than in dancing. He's too pigeon-toed to dance. It is all he can do to walk without getting tangled up.

I am going to Harrisonville today and Wednesday night too if nothing happens here at home and it will keep on raining. It looks very much like we were going to have a trash mover. I suppose you and the Southern girls will have another party if it rains. You ought to have played tennis yesterday afternoon. It was an ideal day for it. You couldn't possibly have gotten too warm at it. Mamma has a broom just raising sand in here. I never saw anyone but Aunt Sallie who takes any more pleasure in creating a disturbance with a broom than Mamma. The coldest day in winter she'll raise all the windows, get a broom and a dust rag, and just be perfectly blissful while the rest of us freeze. Whenever the dog and cat see her coming with a broom they at once begin hunting means of exit. They know by sore experience that Mamma's broom is a poor implement to get in front of. When eating time comes though they forget the broom as well as the rest of us do.

Please now you owe me a letter if you'll let the stationery count for one. Do you approve of Electric Park? If you do we'll go out when the weather gets warm enough. Mary saved me a dish of strawberries. I can't imagine what she wants, a new dress or hat I bet. See you Sunday if not sooner?

Most sincerely, Harry

We've shared this letter before, but it's so fun, we thought we'd share it again! Such fascinating insight into the Truman Farm Home life, and family experience!

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157639012

Dear Bess: May 17, 1911

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for May 17, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service. This year our park marks its 40th anniversary as a National Park Service unit, and we thank everyone for entrusting us with these amazing places and resources.

We’d like to share with you today a Dear Bess letter from on this date in 1911. For a little context, this letter was in the first few months of the Harry Truman/ Bess Wallace courtship. And Harry Truman was healing from a broken leg. If you’ve had a broken leg, you understand. Remember that the house that Mr. Truman was living in had no electricity (although it did have a telephone), and as a farmer, having Harry Truman sidelined affected the business. But we make it up with details. Truman sheds some light on some fun family insights, and provides one of the few physical descriptions of his namesake, his Uncle Harrison Young…his mother’s brother. And a fascinating insight into some Confederate history in the family. For this family, the Civil War was always relevant.

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

May 17, 1911

Dear Bessie:

I am sitting up at the desk writing this and it makes me feel a lot more independent. Crutches are certainly the most inconvenient conveniences I have ever run up against. You've no idea how experience teaches sympathy. I have thought many a time that some of the antics of people on crutches were unnecessary to say the least. I don't think so now. It really takes an expert to accomplish anything with them. It is necessary for me to wear my uncle's overalls because I can't get my plaster cast through the leg of mine. He weighs 240 and a large part of his weight is around the waist. You can imagine the beautiful profile I make. I don't care for looks now though. I want to get out of bed and I'd almost wear a dress to do it.

I certainly thank you for the book you sent. It is fine. I haven't quite finished it yet. I sent you a copy of Life by Ethel. It is so good. I thought that I could not keep it all to myself. I had wrapped it for mailing when Ethel and Aunt Ella showed up. I hope you hadn't seen it. The center cartoon is particularly entrancing. I should certainly like the opportunity of being a joyrider. I really don't think I'd be one, but I'd just like to have the means to be one.

I was very glad to see Ethel and so I didn't attempt to remove her back hair as I had threatened to do. Anyway I don't believe I could have done it just yet so I let well enough alone. She was perfectly willing for me to try.

You said Frank was anxious to go to Mexico. You tell him he'd better stay out of Greaserdom right now anyway. If a fellow could go as the rearguard of a victorious American army it would be all right, but right now the chances are good that he'd stop a bullet. I am like Mark Twain. He says that if fame is to be obtained only by marching to the cannon's mouth, he is perfectly willing to go there provided the cannon is empty, if it is loaded he'd get over the fence and go home. Sometimes the cannon's breech is as dangerous as its mouth. A member of the Battery got his fingers connected with the breech block on one of those three-inch guns not long ago and left one of them in the gun. I think I shall quit the military stunt in June. My time is out then. I have been a member for six years and have had lots of fun, learned a little bit, and made some friends, so I guess I'd better quit while I am all in one piece. Out at Ft. Riley once while the outfit was out there, a shell exploded at the mouth of the gun and killed seven or eight who were standing too far front. So you see a person is not absolutely safe either in front or behind the gun. Mark's advice is best.

One of Mamma's cousins is visiting us now who was in the real Confederate Army. He was at the Battle of Vicksburg and Corinth and also up here at the Battle of Westport. He thinks that General Price was the greatest man that ever lived. Of all the hair-lifting war tales Cousin Will can sure contribute his share. It really seems funny that in this very country, even right where we live, people should have been afraid to go anywhere unless there were several together. Then maybe the Redlegs or Bushwhackers would kill them. Grandmother once routed a whole band of Indians with a big dog. She was all alone except for a negro woman and two of her children. These Indians told her they wanted honey and if she didn't give it, they would take it and her too. So they sharpened their knives on the grinding stone and then she turned loose a large dog. Away went Indians, some leaving their blankets. If I had been Grandma I'd have disappeared out the front way when they came up the back. But she didn't and finally made them go.

I guess you'll think this is a mighty tiresome attempt at a letter but it is the best I can do today. I read some Chinese poetry this morning and I guess that is the reason I can't do any better. It was rendered into English but even then it sounded as bad as the hen tracks they made for writing look. So if this is too dull to read, I hope you'll consider that you owe me a letter for it anyway.

I want to thank you again for The Mistress of Shenstone, as I sure enjoyed it and so did the rest of us.

I hope your calico chickens will be a success and I am really glad you didn't have to use that awful dip. Vivian has to dip chickens out here. I eat them. Well write when you can and if I land that machine I'll try and use it right.

Sincerely, Harry

A fascinating letter from May, 1911, a few months into the Harry Truman/ Bess Wallace courtship. Harry Truman, still healing with a broken leg, talks family, books, Civil War, and more.

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157638918

Dear Bess: May 12, 1912

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for May 12, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service. This year, this park marks its fortieth anniversary…we couldn’t do what we do without your support, so we deeply thank you.

Today’s letter was written on this date in 1912. There is so much wonderful material in this letter. We have a glimpse into life inside of the Farm Home, the family dynamic, and Truman’s mother and Uncle Harrison make appearances. And, once again, Truman mentions the lawsuit that he and his parents were engaged in between them and his mother’s siblings, who felt wronged from the will of Truman’s grandmother, Harriet Louisa Gregg Young, who died in 1909. The case wouldn’t get to court for a while, and the finances of the suit strained family finances for years. And it damaged family relationships.

Thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

Grandview, Mo. May 12, 1912

Dear Bess:

I got your letter this morning and was very glad. As I have to go to the burg after Mary this evening to bring her from church, I will try to write you one and mail it as I go up. The reason you got the other one in such good time is I gave it to Uncle Harrison and he mailed it in town. I gave it to him so those ornery girls couldn't see it. They led me a dog's life while they were here. I guess I about kept even though. I caused Aileen to take a header in the yard and get her shine spoiled and her dress muddy. Grace upset a glass of milk at the table while trying to put butter on my face, which I had smeared on her arm. We told her she'd have to stay over Monday and do a day's washing, but her beau was coming Friday so she had to go home that evening. Aileen said she was going to send her dress to the cleaner's and the bill to me and that I could set ‘em up to a shine the very first time she caught me downtown.

They played their stunt Thursday evening. Two Grandview girls came down to call and find out who was here. When they came in Grace and I happened to be at the piano trying to sing the words to "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" in the front of the libretto and play the music in the back. We found it couldn't be done and were being roasted by Mary and Aileen for creating a disturbance when these girls came. Mary didn't introduce Grace as Miss Waggoner from Independence, but the frying pan she gave me was hanging up in the parlor-and Mamma made an unintentional break by saying it was too small for Grace and me to fry eggs in. She said she meant it because Grace gave me the pan. Those hens took it the other way and I blushed like a school girl at a play party. Aileen had been reading a story in Ladies Home Journal called the "Twenty-four of June" and she and Mary kept up a conversation on the subject until those girls had it all figured out that Grace's amethyst (How do you spell it?) ring was a present from me-and the next twenty-fourth of June, the day. I was so mad I could have busted open. I had to take them home. When they went to leave, one of them said she guessed these girls must be the cousins I went to see in Independence. The girls never said anything only just yelled and laughed, which was all the evidence they wanted. My strong denial only made them surer. I told them going home that Grace's father was a paint manufacturer in K.C. and she was only a friend of Mary's but they only asked if amethysts were her birthstone. I could only say yes because Grace's birthday is in February too. They think they're awful smart. Let them have their good time. I'll get even with the whole bunch, Grandviewites and all. You needn't be afraid of meeting them because if you do they'll only get more thoroughly balled up. They seem to take more interest in attending to my business than in anybody's around here.

I saw Earl Defon Wallingford up town this morning. She said to tell "Bessie hello when you see her." I guess my dear cousins weren't so mum as they pretended they were.

I am very glad George could decipher that note. It wasn't loaded with dynamite. I guess I must have unintentionally handed him a hunch and he did not want you to see it. I told him I could think of bushels of hot air but I supposed he knew it all anyway (the hot air). That I guess is the reason he won't let you see it. You mustn't tell I told you.

My Uncle accomplished his errand and if there's not a slip between now and Tuesday we will probably be able to bring up our case and dispose of it. I hope so because when you pay a lawyer $100 a month and court costs and trip costs it certainly bends your finances badly when they are limited anyway. Mary Colgan called Mary up and told her not to let me make a date for Saturday May 18 as she is going to have a party. She called on last Monday. I told Mary to tell her to have her party on some other day-I couldn't possibly come because I was going to another one. She nearly bit the phone in two. I don't care. I'd rather see Manon (that's the worst one I can think of) with you than go to two of her parties, and I know that Margaret has Manon as badly beaten as Mark has Geo. Eliot. Well, you see I told you about the stunt. Of course it is my point of view, but Mary's or Aileen's couldn't be much different I don't think. You know people see what they want to see.

I guess you are glad that Frank didn't take that grounded boat. I hope he arrives safely. I'd like to see what a card mailed on the high seas looks like.

Please send me a letter and I wish tomorrow were the eighteenth. I'll get done planting corn on Thursday at noon if it doesn't rain, and will be my own boss Saturday at noon so pray for clear weather this time.

Sincerely, Harry

Lots of wonderful tidbits in this letter. We've shared it before, but it's such a terrific example of a "Dear Bess" letter, we thought we would do it again for you.

You can see a digital copy here: https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157638965

Dear Bess: April 27, 1911

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess and Dear Harry podcast for April 27, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service.

In just a few days, our park will mark its 40th birthday, or, the 40th anniversary of the signing of our enabling legislation. We are honored to be doing what we do, and we thank you for allowing us to do it.

This Dear Bess letter was written on this date in 1911. Harry S Truman, farmer, was laid up with a broken leg. That was always a risk of working a farm. It was difficult for Harry Truman to recuperate from his injury, which happened not long after he reunited with Bess Wallace in 1910. But these letters helped, as did his books. Harry Truman being unable to work caused some additional work to others, and no doubt that affected him, too. You can get a sense of the depression he feels in this letter, and that’s rare, for Harry Truman rarely felt anything other than depressed.

We’ve shared this letter before, but wanted to do it again because it’s just wonderful. We hope you agree.

Here’s the letter.

April 27, 1911

Dear Bessie,

My pleasure is not to be expressed in words for the nice long letter you sent me so soon. Of course, now I have nothing else to do but write and read, and I certainly appreciate the fact that you wrote so promptly because you I know are busy. I'm not and can write immediately.

I don't expect an immediate reply but I appreciate it very much when it comes.

Your mentioning Miss Hunt makes me think of someone who hasn't entered my head for a long time. But all of the boys thought Miss Hunt was fine. The girls of course didn't think so well of her. Why, I never could explain. You remember when she told us that our class had given her three gray hairs and how she cried when they roasted her in that "banquet?" I really felt sorry for her then. Miss Phelps says Miss Hunt knew absolutely nothing about pedagogy whatever that is. I don't care we had lots of fun with her.

I am glad you had such good luck with your incubator. It does damp the strongest enthusiasm to sit up till 5PM doesn't it? You'll have to time it differently this time. Make them begin at that time and then you can watch all day. If they began at night next time I'd let them go to Guinea. Mamma's hundred don't give her much trouble. She feeds them two or three times a day and the hens do the rest. You see they can run all over forty acres and more if they want to. I shall be worse spoiled than an only child when I get well. Papa buys me candy and fruit as if I were a two-year-old, and Mamma spends half her time making me comfortable and making my favorite pies. You really don't know how much you're thought of until you get knocked out. I shall try and keep my head though.

I am very thankful that I'll have two feet when I'm well as usual. I do certainly feel sorry for Edward Paxton. I would rather be the poorest laborer in Christendom and be physically whole than be John D. and have some of me gone, wouldn't you?

Such things as broken legs are only chasteners anyway. I shall know exactly how to sympath (I've lost my dictionary and forgot how to spell the last syllable, ain't it awful) with my friends when they have like accidents. I didn't before.

I am sitting up today in a Morris chair and I tell you it is restful to get out of bed once in seven days. I had been thinking all along how nice it would be if I could only sleep for seven days straight. I have the opportunity now and can scarcely get in six hours at a time. That is always the way, we are never exactly satisfied with what we can get.

I shall continue to look for the book. I have been improving my mind with Harold MacGrath the last day or two, his Splendid Hazard. It's fine.

I got a note from Ethel saying she would write me in a day or two. I guess they are very busy now and haven't much time for correspondence. I hope you will take this for what it is worth and consider it worth an answer as I most certainly do appreciate your letters. I'll try and do better next time but my pet won't let me sit up long at a time, much as I want to.

Write when you can soon to

Yours sincerely, Harry

What can a farmer with a broken leg do? Well, for one, write to the girl of his dreams. And that's exactly what Harry Truman did on April 27, 1911. Writing and reading helped Truman much during his recuperation.

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157638914?objectPanel=transcription

Dear Bess: April 18, 1914

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for April 18, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service.

Today’s Dear Bess letter was written on April 18, 1914. We encourage you to click on the link and look at the digital original, specifically for the letterhead…J.A. Truman & Son, Farmers, Kansas City Home Phone Hickman 6. We really don’t have that many papers that survive with that letterhead. As you’ll hear, Mr. Truman must have just received it, and was obviously proud of it. Some fun tidbits in this letter. Instead of describing them, how about we just share the letter with you.

As always, we thank you for listening. This is our 40th year of being a National Park unit. We are eternally grateful to our visitors and all who make everything possible.

Dear Bess:

I am going to send you that letter I promised. It is not the delayed one but an entirely new brand. Also it is on a new brand of stationery. I kinda like the looks of this, so I thought I'd use it. Our disappeared man was on deck this morning madder than a Mexican pirate. Claimed he'd been down with his daughter all these days. He seemed to think it an impossibility for us to make connection with Belton. Papa let him go to work. The man we hired is a good one too, so I guess we'll have two for a month. Then the best one gets to stay. I am hoping they'll manage to get along all right.

I caught that car all right and got down in town at five minutes to one. That was a record trip. I had to go to E.B.T.'s this morning and part with the price of a pair of white silk gloves. I sure made a nice picture buying gloves elbow length. I must be a great little feminine shopper by this time. It is rather embarrassing sometimes to have a fresh clerk ask me if my wife is a large or small woman. I always say it's for my mother but I'm never believed.

Bess, I'm going to beg you for a phottgraft again. I wish you'd have yer pitur took in that hat, even if it is only a stamp. This is the couple of dozenth time I've asked for one, but I'm still hoping to get it just the same. I've been wanting you to have one taken in that hat if it's only one and that one for me. Please do. I'm going to get cheated out of a letter this week but the picture will do for a substitute. That's almost the same request I made in the other letter and that's all I didn't tell you last night. I know I'll get there Sunday evening and Monday evening now with two men.

Sincerely, Harry

Some fascinating tidbits in this Dear Bess letter, written on some spiffy new stationary!

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/157639063?objectPanel=transcription

Dear Bess: April 13: 1918 (circa)

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for April 13, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service. This year marks the 40th anniversary of our park unit, and we thank everyone for making what we do possible, particularly the American people. Thank you.

The letter for today is interesting in that we’re not quite sure when it was exactly written, but our best guess is that it was written on April 13, 1918. First Lieutenant Harry Truman writes to his fiancée, Miss Bess Wallace, that he is about to land, meaning that he and his military colleagues were landing in Europe to be part of the fighting in World War I. Truman and his men and colleagues were likely feeling the same emotions that all soldiers and sailors still do today when mobilizing. That sadness in leaving home, and leaving loved ones behind…the fear of the unknown, the fear of being hurt or killed. The curiosity of seeing a new land. Some boredom. Loneliness, even when there are lots of others around And more.

As always, we thank you for listening. Here’s the letter.

Aboard U.S.S. George Washington Apr. 1918

Dear Bess: We are about to arrive and I am going to write you what purports to be a letter. There are so many things we can't write about that there is practically nothing left but the weather and the scenery to talk of. The weather has been fine all the way across, ideal submarine weather so they say, but I prefer it to the rough kind. We had one day that made me and several others pretty much disgusted with life on the sea. I can't see what a man wants to be a sailor for. Except for the one day, I've enjoyed all the meals I could get. Some of the officers have been sick all the way and, I am sure from my one day's experience, have spent a very unpleasant time. Everyone has a remedy and none of them work but Christian Science and sometimes it fails in a rough sea. We have had a very pleasant time except for the monotony of it. There are six lieutenants in our cabin, all congenial spirits. We play cards awhile then go on deck and hunt for submarines awhile and sleep the rest of the time except when we're on guard.

There is no scenery to write about, nothing but blue water everywhere when the sun shines, lead colored when it doesn't, and copper colored at sunrise and sunset. The sunsets on the sea aren't half as good to see as those on our prairies at home. You see just as far as the rim, which they tell me is twenty miles away. The funny part of it is we never catch up with that rim. If we could only get over it I'm sure we could go twice as fast because it would be downhill. One fellow remarked to me the other night that according to his map of the Atlantic Ocean we'd have a hard pull of it from here to France because it would be uphill all the way. Some of the things the crew pull off are a caution to hear. Most of the best ones are unprintable but are not so bad as humorous when you hear them. I am enclosing you a copy or two of the Hatchet—our daily paper—which will tell you lots that goes on on board every day. I didn't get any of your last letters at Camp Merritt. The telegram about the picture was the last thing I got. I am hoping they were forwarded on this boat and that I'll get them when I land.

Shall write again tomorrow.

Yours always, Harry S. Truman

Lieutenant Harry S Truman and his colleagues arrive in Europe to serve and fight in World War I. The most crucial months in Harry Truman's life to this point are about to begin.

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/47346663

Dear Bess: April 8, 1912

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for April 8, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service, in partnership with the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library and Museum, part of the National Archives, the keepers of the Dear Bess and Dear Harry letters.

Today’s letter was written by Harry S Truman, Farmer, on April 8, 1912. It’s really a remarkable letter, with a lot in it. Harry Truman’s brother, John Vivian, makes a brief appearance, as the latest to have suffered a medical misfortune. In 1910, Truman’s father broke his leg, in 1911, Harry Truman broke his. And here, in 1912, John Vivian, who had his own farm by this time, injured his shoulder. It also appears as if the Independence High School alumni association wanted Harry Truman to offer some type of presentation as a distinguished alumnus. But the letter oozes romance, particularly the second paragraph.

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter. Grandview, Mo. April 8, 1912

Dear Bess:

Here goes for another start on your letter. Maybe I'll get it finished this time. My dear brother had to go and get his shoulder dislocated when I started the other one, and I was shaken up so on hearing it I couldn't write. That sounds rather feminine, doesn't it? Mamma says I was intended for a girl anyway. It makes me pretty mad to be told so but I guess it's partly so. When it comes to pulling teeth I always yell and I have an inordinate desire to look nice in a photo. You see I have some ladylike traits anyway. If ever you accuse me of having any, though, you may be sure I'll prevaricate and say I haven't. I told your mother I was going to get her a lily for Easter but couldn't carry it. Of course I couldn't possibly have paid a messenger to deliver it, could I? It was my intention to get it when we came home from the Rev. Cyrus Townsend Brady's, but as we didn't go of course no lily appeared. I hope she'll give me credit for good intentions. There goes another piece of Hellenic pavement to my credit. (I'm not referring to Greece, either.)

Will you please persuade George to persuade the alumni committee of the senior class to forget that they ever had any intention of giving me nervous prostration? If I get to come to their meeting and they should ask me to speak, I'd die of elevatoritis because I'd go right through the floor. It was my hope that I'd get to come and enjoy myself but I sure wouldn't if that calamity were hanging over me. I wouldn't mind making a botch on my own account but I'd so hate to humiliate my friends. Besides, the meeting is on Friday night and unless something happens to annul a Masonic meeting I'll have to stay home. If I get to go, will you honor muh with yuh company? If I don't show up by 8:00 p.m. you'll know I couldn't kill the Masonic goat and that I'm not coming. If you want to go with any of the other good-looking fellows, you'd better, then you'll have a sure escort. Then if I come, I can suffer from the little green god as well as from luck ague. There are more I's, me's, my's in this than I have succeeded in putting into a letter for a long time. You know I am of a rather retiring disposition and it hurts me to blow my own trumpet so much. I wouldn't only you know that I'm horribly anxious for you to suffer from an excessively good opinion of me! If you should happen to do that and at some date in the distant future I should get to acting up, can't you hand me one by just telling me what I've said on paper? (Provided you don't consign these to range, as Agnes's flame said.) I really don't care a hoot what you do with my letters so long as you write me-that's what I'm laboring for, a letter from you. You may read them to anyone you choose, put 'em under the parlor carpet, or start fires with 'em-just as long as you send me an answer, which by the way won't be used for any of the above- mentioned purposes.

Well, let's change the subject what do you say? Not that I'd ever get tired of it. I shelled corn by hand all day today. That is as long as I could hold my eyes open. I was sitting on the floor in the sitting room shelling seed corn as hard as I could, when pretty soon Papa came in and yelled, "Harry, dinner's ready! Why don't you come on, you going to sleep all day?" I'd been asleep for an hour and didn't know it. You see, I got up at 4:30 a.m. and turned in at 1:30 a.m., which is a rather long stretch between naps. A freight train got in front of the passenger last night and I got off in our pasture and only had to walk about half as far as usual. The moon was just getting up as the train came round the bend and it looked exactly as if our barn was on fire. I was scared stiff. When I got to the jumping off place I decided it was a neighbor's house and only came to the moon conclusion when I got to the house. Some poor fellow was stalled in an auto about two hundred yards from the gate but got started about the time I got to the house. Wouldn't it be pleasant to be laid out about twenty miles from home about 1:00 a.m.? You ought to know for you tried it once. I hope you'll take the risk again sometime soon. Send me a letter immejate [sic].

Most sincerely, Harry

A fascinating letter from on this date in 1912. Harry Truman uses his pen to contemplate his brother's injury, encouraging Miss Wallace to think well of him, and much more.

https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/library/truman-papers/correspondence-harry-s-truman-bess-wallace-1910-1919/april-8-1912

Dear Bess: March 28, 1944 (postmarked)

Transcript

Welcome to the Dear Bess/ Dear Harry podcast for March 28, 2023, brought to you by Harry S Truman National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service, in partnership with the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library and Museum, part of the National Archives, the keepers of the Dear Bess and Dear Harry letters.

Today’s letter was postmarked on this date in 1944, and was written by Senator Harry S Truman while on some official Senate business in Seattle, Washington. It’s an absolute gem of a letter. The first paragraph is about as sweet as anything Truman ever wrote to Bess Wallace Truman, and that is saying something.

By this time, Senator Truman had really made a name for himself with a committee investigating defense spending during the war…a committee that the press dubbed the Truman Committee. Truman never called it that. But the committee and its work saved taxpayers a lot of money, made Truman a household name, and propelled him into nomination for a higher office just a few weeks after this letter was written.

As always, thanks for listening. Here’s the letter.

Olympic Hotel Seattle, Washington March 28, 1944 [Postmark]

Dear Bess:

Well it was sure grand to talk to you yesterday. I'm so far away I don't feel so well about it. Miss you and my baby and your mother. Specially miss that evening ceremony of taking the medicine with you. Hope someday you and I can just sit around and enjoy a perpetual honeymoon without worrying about bread and butter and public opinion. Guess I'm just a damned, sentimental old fool. I've always had you on a pedestal and despite the fact that you try to climb down sometimes, and I don't blame you for trying, I'm not going to let you. From Sunday school days, to grade school days, to First World War days, to the Senate, to World War II days you are just the same to me--the nicest, prettiest girl in the world. Most of my associates think there's something wrong with me because I believe in that oath I took in a certain little Episcopal Church in Independence, Missouri, about twenty-five years ago. But I don't care what they think.

We are holding some of the most touchy and ticklish hearings since we started. Wallgren and Magnuson talked too much out here. The papa of Roosevelt's son-in-law is worse than the Washington Herald and the Chicago Tribune combined. They have a rival paper which goes on the other side no matter whether it's right or wrong. Mon took Jackson and me to Everett to see his wife on Sunday. We had dinner on the way back. The hearing here is to be concluded today. Then to San Francisco. I refused to go to Los Angeles by plane today to address the Jackson Day dinner down there because I can't mix my politics with my religion. Religion being "win the war quickly."

Hugh Fulton and Kilgore are waiting for me so I'll have to run. Will do better next time. Wish I'd had a letter here.

My best to your mother. Kiss my pretty girl and lots of love to you.

Harry

Has Margie forgotten how to write too?

A gem of a letter, written by Senator Harry S Truman to Mrs. Truman...a letter written from Seattle, Washington.

https://catalog.archives.gov/id/154961610

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