Love Letters of Norma Bell

These are five letters written by Norma Bell in 1938. They span the time while she was finishing her college studies in Greeley, Colorado where she lived in room 214 of Snyder Hall and, later, as a grade school teacher (in Lyons, Colorado). In those days, a woman could not be married and keep her teaching job, so she and Vincent David Barth married secretly in Chicago on September 4, 1937. They were rarely able to see each other during the year they kept their marriage secret. She wrote these letters to her new husband, Vincent, who was living and working in Seattle, Washington at the time.

When she was born in 1914, her parents named her "Norma Bell", without a middle name. Four years later, their second daughter was born, named "Ruby Fae Bell". Norma asked her mother why she did not have a middle name, and her mother told her to choose one. Norma chose "Jane" as her middle name, although it was never made official. As an adult, Norma's friends called her "N.J.", and that is how she signed some of these letters.

These letters were cherished by Vincent until his death on July 12, 1990.

Editorial notes, in brackets, are by Vincent and Norma's eldest son, David Victor Barth.

Letter One

[This letter is postmarked November 20, 1938. It is addressed to Vincent at General Delivery, Seattle, Washington.]

Sat. Night
Dearest Husband,

And what do you think of this awful red writin' paper?

Ruby [Ruby Fae Bell, Norma's younger sister] went to the village this afternoon and, since I had to work in the library, I asked her to get me some stationary. She came home with this wild stuff. She said I needed something to cheer me up so she brought me this. I have not decided what effect it has had upon me maybe it has given me the urge to write, because I used three sheets to catch up on the news I had gathered together to send to Esther.

Well, your School of Mines took the Bears for a cleaning, 13 to 9, I think, so your school has a better team than we have. And now I wonder how D.U. will come out with Boulder. We shall soon see.

I have had another one of those sore throats, this time way down in the neck, but I have been taking care of it and resting a lot and I came out without even a cold.

It all started when I washed my hair and went to bed with it not dry through and through. Next time I get that notion after dinner, I hope I remember that I can't take it.

So you have seen the place of your birth [Renton, Washington]. That was a lucky day for me (the day of your birth). It is late (11:00), but I have been in bed or rather under the covers since 8:00. I am alone with the radio and my dreams. And these dreams are made to come true.

Ruby, June, and Frances went to the show to see "If I Were King." I would have liked to join them, but thought it best to obey my better judgement and stay in.

I will be glad when Wednesday is over with and we will be home for a few days.

Again, I am wondering what you have found [word crossed out] in that wet state of Washington. Do you like it up there? (I hope you can read the word I crossed out. I think you will be able to.)

There will be skating at Evergreen tomorrow. (I just got that over the radio.) I did not know it had been that cold.

Now I am getting music from some tavern in San Francisco. "The city by the golden gate," so the man says.

Now I am off to my nightly dreams of you and are they ever!

Don't worry about me. I am not sick or I would have one of those nice beds in the infirmary. It won't be long until you can remind me to wash my hair during the day. Won't that be fun? Or will it? -- N.J.

Letter Two

I feel kittenish tonight, so I'll try to write something around the edge of each page. I guess it is best I turn it upside down so you can tell what I am writing, but it ain't important.

Now this is important. I love you you and only you forever and ever and ever. It will be great fun to make a home for you and our children (in the distant future).

I started on the back page with this, so I might as well finish the job. The music on the radio is pretty good. The people dance around as if they were having a pretty good time.

Good night, my Sweetheart.

Letter Three

[This letter is postmarked November 25, 1938, and is addressed to Vincent at 2203 California Avenue, West Seattle, Washington.]

Tuesday Aft.
Dearest,

I got a letter form you yesterday which reminded me to tell you to get goin' down to that P. O. (if you have not already), and you will find a small stack of letters awaiting your knife. [Vincent always carried a pocket knife, and among its many uses, he used it to open letters.]

Guess What!! I have finished one term paper and am now ready to start work on the one for history. The one first completed was for philosophy I hope for the best results on that score.

I am going to announce to the whole world the best thing that ever happened to me, on Wednesday, December 7, [1938] I think. I am having a little party for the Sorority [Delta Delta Delta] and a few of the girls here in the dorm, and at that time I am going to have Miss Baker (our faculty advisor) do the honors. I will be so happy when I can talk to everyone about us. Then I can say "He belongs to me, I belong to him, we belong to each other."

I think some of the kids (Frances and June) are hashing up something. It almost got away from them last night, but Fran caught herself just in time.

Only 16 more days of school and 25 days until the bonds of the degree will be snipped, and it will be mine. I will be so happy this Christmas - you will have a hard time trying to keep me down to earth - just imagine we will be together and ready to do things together. Then watch our dust. Only we can't turn around to look, just keep going, forever.

I wonder if I am making sense. I seem to be rambling along trying to let some pent up thoughts out to you.

The radio is ranting along on "Side By Side." Do you remember? "Just as long as we are together, it doesn't matter at all as long as we are side by side," or something [like that].

You know, you are going to have to put up with an awful lot from me. You'll never know until you try it out.

Well, I forgot what I was going to say a minute ago when I got up to get the ink to fill my pen to write what I have forgotten. It could not have been important.

I am going to the Library in a few minutes to return a batch of books, so I'll mail this on the way. This writing is awful. I'll do better from this point.

(I can hear Ruby [Norma's sister] say, "Why do you write so big?")

Tell your mother and Dad [Victor and Grace Barth] "hello" for me, and, also, Ruby.

She thinks the best man at the wedding is a swell person. She also thinks that the maid of honor is a pretty good somebody, too. What do I think? You asked for it (or did you?) I think that the whole wedding party is and was a grand outfit.

I think I had better stop.
All my love, Sweetheart.
N.J.
P.S. Pop [Norma's stepfather, Mr. Paul] was supposed to go to the hospital today. I do hope he comes through in fine style.

Letter Four

[This letter is postmarked December 2, 1938. It is addressed to Vincent at 2203 California Avenue, West Seattle, Washington.]

Darling,

I don't feel a bit like studying, however, I have been doing some of it this morning and last night I spent about six hours in the labor of writing a term paper which is well on the way to being finished. Then I have another one to do.

Ruby and I had the burning done Monday. It was not bad at all, but the after effects are not so good. Our throats were sore as could be, but today mine feels quite well. Tomorrow we have another shot of it (Not a shot, just burned with electricity).

We got a letter from Mom this morning. She said that Pop got home Monday. I am glad he got to go home, so Mom would not get so lonesome.

Sweetheart, we have only two more weekends to be apart after this one. How does that make you feel? It makes me feel wonderful.

Wednesday night at a dinner party for 23 people, I am going to announce our marriage. I am making little bells which are to be of graduated sizes and hung on a tiny Christmas tree. The inside has written on it the following:

NOW IT CAN BE
TOLD
NORMA JANE
AND
VINCENT BARTH
HAVE BEEN MARRIED
SINCE SEPT. 4, 1937

The bells are silver with a bit of color at the bottom edge.

I got your letter yesterday in which you said you would yell like ---- if I were away from you 6 more months. Well, save your yell for one of joy. I do not intend to be away from you any longer than necessary.

So the gold mine of letters went dry. I would have liked for it not to have, but I have been pretty well tied up.

Have a good time in the next two weeks, because when I arrive you will have to belong to me and spend your time with me.

Last night it rained. Imagine, in December.

All my love, NJ.

Letter Five

[The following letter is postmarked December 8, 1938. It is addressed to Vincent at 2203 California Avenue, West Seattle, Washington.]

Wednesday Eve.
My dearest husband,

The next letter you write you may use my right name. I am so thrilled that at last I have announced it and can use ["your" is crossed out] our name. When I see it in your handwriting, I will be even more thrilled.

The party was a bang up success. The tree had 24 limbs, and on each limb hung a silver bell. The only trimmings were the bells and silver tinsel. It was really very pretty, but lots and lots of work on the bells.

Ruby and I untied the bells, passed them around and then everyone was allowed to open them at once. You should have heard the ahs and ahs, whys and screeches. One gal was so thrilled she cried. She always does. I blushed till I was as red as beet, and nothing could be done about it. Then they sang "Stand up, stand up, stand up, Mrs. Barth, stand up," and it was all I could do to make my knees stiff enough to hold my weight.

I am so happy darling - my only wish is that you might have been here to share in my happiness. But soon we will be together. Just think, it will soon be our second Christmas together. We will be together won't we? What I mean is, your Dad hasn't changed his mind has he? [Norma used to tease Vincent that she married him because she liked his father, Victor Barth].

I am wearing my ring and it is good to have it on my finger again, and now I won't have to turn it around or keep my hand in my pocket any more because now I am yours to the whole world.

Tonight you are probably on your way back to Seattle. I do hope you succeed in getting the job. I wish I were traveling with you.

Seattle - the word intrigues me for many reasons, but most important of all is that you are there and soon our period of separation will be over. If I don't get myself down to earth pretty soon, I will never sleep tonight - who could? Not even I, who usually sleeps like a baby.

I do not have to take the final [examination] in astronomy. The wee bit of polishing was not needed for I just asked him [the instructor] and he said, no, not unless we who were graduating wanted to try to bring up our grades. I think mine is as high as it will go for me. If I could get out of history final, I would be able to go home and could get my junk in my six trunks and four traveling bags.

By the way, what shall I bring now? Please be serious and don't tell me "One small suitcase that will slide under a chair." If we only knew what the situation would be, I might be able to organize my morning better. Can you give me any leads?

Pop is feeling fine. I guess he isn't doing much work, as yet, which is probably a very good thing. I must be off to bed now. I have gotten most of the excitement out of my system, so I had better truck along before something more happens. I'll save that, Sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you, and I long to be held tightly in your loving arms. You know all that, but it just ran out thru my arm and on to the paper. I want an answer to my questions. After Wednesday, you can write to me in Denver. Lots of luck and all my love.

N.J.
Mrs. Vincent Barth

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