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Erie, Pa.,
Monday, Oct. 24, '38.
Maurice had a wire yesterday that Jim Bracken died. And today I had an announcement of Bill Libby's marriage to Beatrice Parks of Jamaica Plain, Mass. And so today I learn of death of one of my old New Haven friends and marriage of another - two extremes of life, death and marriage and the probability of new life. And that's life, after all. Poor old Jim! Dead of cancer at about 45 - a big, strapping bear for punishment - "never sick a day in his life" type. And good old Bill, a gentleman if there ever was one; I certainly wish him happiness. If my New England District trip pans out, I hope I can get to see him. As for Jim, I had hoped to see him again, expecting him to live for a month or so yet but cancer cut in on him fast once it really got in its death grip. So God rest his soul! Jim was a good egg; I used to get awfully provoked with him sometimes, but I always liked him. Jim's heart was in the right place and his irritating way sometimes was the product of his super-conscientiousness - after all, not to be criticized.
Jake won't be back for another week yet, so he may clean up my "territory" for me before he leaves. Doc says, "Jake's that way. He'll do it. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile." But I actually think Jake is working on active stuff, most of it, stuff he planned to do when he left here. I'm not worrying about it.
Had the big U.P. demonstration today for the U.P. officials, Mr. Jeffers, the President, being here. I understand all went very well except Jeffers tore a button off his coat in the engine, then proceeded to give Jabelmann hell, and he in turn gave Andrews hell. Jabelmann and Jeffers are both big, beefy