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Joseph E. Evans letters, 1935-1954
Letter from Joseph Early Evans Page 1
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Santa Monica Del Mar Club Santa Monica, California BOARD OF DIRECTORS Hernando Courtright, President Victor Ford Collins Earl W. Huntley Willard W. Keith Fred Metzler Neil Petree I have a little problem of my own just now; a minor one, but its implications may be important. I am still doing guard duty, awaiting the organization of the public relations office. The problem is that I want to go on doing guard duty and I do want to do public relations work; although I have dutifully checked at PRO almost every day, the very thought of embarking upon it not only leaves me utterly cold but is actually anti-pathetical to me. I just don't want to do that kind of writing any more, and I don't want to have anything to do with an office of any kind: I'm too far gone along my own inner paths to be able to endure it. On guard, however, as for example now, I am alone, I can read (I went to the SM Public Library this evening; tried to get W. James' Varieties of Religious Experience, but it was out, so I got his brother's Golden Bowl and V. Woolf's Second Common Reader and a collection of E.M. Forster essays called Abinger Harvest) and I could even write. There is almost nothing official to do except be here; I like the de-routinization of it - the different hours every day. Besides, they want to make me a sergeant of the guard for the post - 24 hours on, 48 off, a staff car for my exclusive use, and again, practically nothing to do except wake people up and check a couple of warehouses or something occasionally. And yet it seems horrible, doesn't it - not to do what one is fitted for? But I know that if I got into public relations, as inevitably I will - for I'm quite sure they won't let me out of it even though I insist - I will crack up, not because it is so strenuous, but because I so very much do not want to do it. Of course I would want it if it were a choice of that or some other office job, but this guard thing is something quite different; it is
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Santa Monica Del Mar Club Santa Monica, California BOARD OF DIRECTORS Hernando Courtright, President Victor Ford Collins Earl W. Huntley Willard W. Keith Fred Metzler Neil Petree I have a little problem of my own just now; a minor one, but its implications may be important. I am still doing guard duty, awaiting the organization of the public relations office. The problem is that I want to go on doing guard duty and I do want to do public relations work; although I have dutifully checked at PRO almost every day, the very thought of embarking upon it not only leaves me utterly cold but is actually anti-pathetical to me. I just don't want to do that kind of writing any more, and I don't want to have anything to do with an office of any kind: I'm too far gone along my own inner paths to be able to endure it. On guard, however, as for example now, I am alone, I can read (I went to the SM Public Library this evening; tried to get W. James' Varieties of Religious Experience, but it was out, so I got his brother's Golden Bowl and V. Woolf's Second Common Reader and a collection of E.M. Forster essays called Abinger Harvest) and I could even write. There is almost nothing official to do except be here; I like the de-routinization of it - the different hours every day. Besides, they want to make me a sergeant of the guard for the post - 24 hours on, 48 off, a staff car for my exclusive use, and again, practically nothing to do except wake people up and check a couple of warehouses or something occasionally. And yet it seems horrible, doesn't it - not to do what one is fitted for? But I know that if I got into public relations, as inevitably I will - for I'm quite sure they won't let me out of it even though I insist - I will crack up, not because it is so strenuous, but because I so very much do not want to do it. Of course I would want it if it were a choice of that or some other office job, but this guard thing is something quite different; it is
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