Manly I have thought how long you have been tied to the farm and when I get home you are going somewhere for a trip if for no other reason than to make you glad to get back home again. It is really doing me lots of good. You know how tired it made me to ride only a little way in the car and now I ride 250 or 300 miles and am not a bit dizzy at night, and my head is clearer than it has been for years.
I had gotten so at home that I went through everything in a sort of daze and felt as though I was all tied up with everything. It has done me good to break away for a little and you shall do it too. You need it. Then, as I said before I left, we can take hold of things on Rocky Ridge with some pleasure in it and with our little income we ought to be able to have a good time, too.
I had thought of the trip north that Mrs. Aubert [unidentified] told you about and I think it would be a nice trip, but if we can’t sell the farm we will use Isabelle to run around with. Sometimes I am like you in thinking that I can’t bear to give up Rocky Ridge for as you say, you have made it all with your own hands. I am sure we can have a good time there if we can only break away a little from the work.
I haven’t written you very often because we have started as early as we could get started in the morning and I was dead tired every night when we got in. I have written a bit of a diary every day to read and talk over with you when I get back but it is just scribbled while the car was going so nobody could read it but me.
I haven’t seen any place that I think either of us would really want to come to. It seems that where the land is level there is always something else wrong with it. There are places in eastern Colorado where they raise the melons and honey that looked nice to work, but it gets awfully cold there in winter. There are places to raise sheep and cattle where I think we might like it, if we were younger, but they are so far away from every place, and we are not strong enough to do it now.
There is government land in Nevada where we could take desert claims and I believe it will be a wonderful country some day. For I feel sure we could take desert claims . . . someday for they will get the water on it. It is level of course and the soil is rich as rich but it is desert now and will be for years to come and we are too old to help make any more new countries. The valley here in California is of course level and rich . . . but the land is too high priced as it was before. [During her 1915 visit to California, Laura had also explored the possibility of moving west.]
I think if we find a place any better than Rocky Ridge you will have to be the one to find it. I can’t.
I do like the western people though. It sounds good to hear again the hearty, western “You bet I will!” and have the waiter call me “dear” instead of “honey” as they do at the small hotels where we sometimes have to stop.
The day we left Salt Lake City we traveled down the valley and out of it through sage brush hills and across deserts and over desert mountains and stopped at a little town called Beaver. Next day we crossed more sagebrush hills and across deserts and over desert mountains to Ely, Nevada. It is a mining town built all up and down a gulch in the mountains. We did not get in until after dark but we had to keep going because there was nowhere else to stop. Ate supper at a Chinese restaurant and slept in a very comfortable hotel in old Ely. The new town was full. I heard the blasts going off in the night and it was really a western mining town.
The next day we climbed over mountains and across more desert. Right in the middle of the desert miles from anywhere we found three men building a filling station. They seemed awfully glad to have a chance to talk to us. The little frame store and lunch room and filling station were combined and the piping of water to it from the mountains cost them $10,000. It cost them $25 a thousand to get lumber hauled in and $9 a day for carpenters to build it. Gasoline cost us 50 cents a gallon, and we were glad to get it.
I am tired. We drove 100 miles this morning to get here and I’ve been busy since.
Lovingly,
Bessie
We had good roads all through Colorado
OCTOBER 6, 1925
Manly Dear,
Another letter from you came a little bit ago.
We had to change our plans and not go to Denver because of storms and snow in the mountains that caused us to turn south and go through Tennessee Pass. We had good roads all through Colorado and they were rained on and washed out in Utah deserts.
The girls came in to get ready for the dinner they are going to. They had been out getting their faces and hair fixed up. They each bought a new evening dress for the occasion and look stunning.
I am sorry I am not there to talk about buying the mules but of course by now you have used your own judgment about it. So would I rather get money from the cream than the farm loan business. You don’t know how tired I am of the work and responsibility of that secretary business, but you know I have tried to do my part of the cream work . . . so we would get the money for both. But I think I will not have to do [the farm loan business] any longer for John Brentlinger is right, we will not make any more loans if we have to send a larger fee to the Federal Loan Bank.
So after you have your vacation we will sell cream. [Manly planned to visit his siblings in Louisiana.] I think you are doing wonderfully well to get $4 a week off the cream. You see the milk is not so much disturbed as it is when I am home.
Don’t worry about cleaning up the house. Let it go until I get back, only take good care of yourself and the dogs. Poor Judy [a farm dog]. Don’t pet Nero more than you do her, and make her feel badly.
I hope John [a neighboring farmer] does make them pay for the corn the cow gets into.
Oh, you see we could not tell you the towns ahead [of us] for we knew our way depended on the weather. We might have had to beat it south and come in by the southern route. As it was we came through the Tennessee Pass just ahead of the snow and as we left Nevada over the mountains we were just ahead of another storm that would have made the roads impassable, but we wanted to see that country on the way over, for we can see the other coming back. There will be no snow to stop us or kill us by slipping off some mountain. . . .
Let me see—I left our trip at Mono Lake in the other letter. The wind blew all night and was still blowing in the morning so hard that Isabelle could hardly face it. We got an early start, so early we had to get the first garage man out of bed to give us gas. Mono Lake was simply covered with ducks when we woke . . . and began to climb the mountains to get to Tioga Pass. [A tense moment on the pass caused Rose to abandon the wheel to Helen, and limit all future driving.] We climbed and climbed up one rise and then the next until we got in among the peaks where the wind did not hit us. At first there were houses in the valleys and little farms. Then we came to a national forest reserve and there were ranger cabins here and there. Then we found ourselves on the mountainside. . . .
To climb the mountain the road bends back on itself twice to ascend. We climbed into the sky among the snow peaks and saw frozen waterfalls below us. Never again will I climb over the mountains unless I have to do so.
Rose and Helen exclaimed over the scenery and smoked cigarettes but I could only pinch myself to keep from screaming and look for the end of the climb. Please don’t tell anyone this.
At last we passed the summit and soon came to where Uncle Sam had a cable stretched across the road and a little house at one side [this was the entrance to Yosemite]. A big sign said “Stop!” “Blow your horn!” We did so and a man came out and asked us if we were intending to go straight through, if we had any firearms or any dogs or cats. No dogs or cats are allowed to go into Yosemite National Park, no one is allowed to take in any firearms and the park was closed to campers. We were late, you see, but as we were going straight through the [park ranger] lowered the cable and let us pass after we had paid $5 for a permit.
Then we came into a wonderful place, a lake, creeks and rivers and the blessed woods again. You see all those awful mountains on the west slope of the Rockies and the east slope of the Sierra Nevadas are not timbered but now we we
re among giant pines and cedars and hemlocks and redwoods and quivering, beautiful aspens. There were nice big, clean boulders and grassy meadows. We passed a lake whose Indian name means Lake of the Shining Rocks and the mountains around it sparkled and shone where the rocks were. We passed through Wildcat Canyon and White Wolf Meadows and then began to climb again. It seemed as though the top was a depression or hollow down into which we went and up again out.
I saw a deer among the boulders on a hill. Oh, it was the most beautiful thing. I got one good look at it with its beautiful antlers . . . then it disappeared. The girls didn’t see it at all.
There was another cable across the road on the other side of the park and another guard who also took the number of our car, where we were from, and where we were going . . . and let us go on. Then we were in another forest reserve and the beautiful woods. Had lunch at Carl Inn, a summer resort. All the way we saw camps of forest rangers here and there. We passed Bret Harte’s old house. [Harte (1836–1902) specialized in fiction of the Old West and the California Gold Rush, literature favored by the Wilders.]
And then we came to the road down off the mountains, corresponding to the road up in Tioga Pass, though not such a steep descent. . . . This wind down the mountain was 6½ miles long. Plenty long enough.
It got dark while we were going down . . . and at last we struck the cement road and went on into Oakdale where we stayed all night. Next morning we followed the cement road 90 some miles into Oakland. Then across the bay on the ferry into San Francisco. We had lunch on the ferry as we were crossing.
When we got settled into the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, Rose had to buy some shoes, get the mail, read it, and write answers. Then we walked through Chinatown to Little Italy for 7 o’clock dinner. We ate and listened to the music and watched the dancing, then went to a movie and back to the hotel.
Imagine me doing that all in one day!
Today Rose and Helen shopped, and Rose had interviews and callers and phone calls. I have been touching up my hair a little and resting and helping Rose now and then. Tomorrow they will both be wrecks, after tonight. And it is time I was in bed myself. Good night.
Lovingly,
Bessie
A delightful quaint foreign looking place
OCTOBER 8, 1925
Dear Manly,
Rose and Helen are out to dinner again tonight. We leave the Palace Hotel tomorrow to go to the Older ranch for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. [Fremont Older was the editor of the San Francisco Bulletin and Rose’s mentor during her early journalistic career. Older and his wife, Cora, became Rose’s valued friends.]
I dread going out to the Olders’ and meeting a crowd of strangers but I’ve got to pretend to like it for Rose’s sake. She certainly is popular in California.
Monday Rose has to go to Berkley to see a friend and we expect to start for home on Tuesday if nothing happens. . . . Rose has been so rushed since we got here. Met people she knew before we registered in the hotel and it has been one continual seeing of people and accepting and refusing invitations ever since. We all admitted tonight that we would be glad to be on the road again. We have bought a small trunk and are shipping most of our things home in it, so don’t be surprised when it comes. The car was so full that it was crowded and now there are more things . . . we are going to ship everything except what we can get along with on the way home.
I haven’t been around San Francisco much. Up on Telegraph Hill and to some of the stores and the restaurant Rose told about in her book. [The book was He Was a Man, a fictional biography of Jack London with a San Francisco setting, published by Harper & Brothers in September 1925.]
The Italian who runs the restaurant and his wife, the Coppas, knew Rose and came rushing to greet her. They took extra pains that we should have a good dinner and when we tried to pay, they would not let us. The waiter talked a stream of Italian when Rose asked for the check and bowed and smiled and spread his hands and said “You are welcome.” And the woman, “Mama Coppa” came and visited with us and she and “Papa Coppa” shook hands and bowed us out. It was a delightful quaint foreign looking place.
I think when Rose is in Berkley Helen and I will roam around a little.
Lovingly,
Bessie
Postcard to Manly
[Los Angeles]
OCTOBER 17, 1925
Got here last night. This is a beautiful as well as comfortable hotel. [While in Los Angeles, the ladies stayed at the Biltmore Hotel.] Rose has to see a friend here today and we expect to go on this afternoon.
Love,
Bessie
We got into the traffic at Hollywood . . . and it is frightful
[Los Angeles]
OCTOBER 17, 1925
Dear Manly,
We are spending part of the day here. Grant Carpenter, the writer, will show us the motion picture studios at Hollywood. [Carpenter, a friend of Rose’s, was a San Francisco newspaperman, novelist, and Hollywood scriptwriter.]
We have to look up the best route and roads from here home. There are several ways we can go, all about the same distance. . . . We want to find a road that will bring us home without crossing the high mountains again, because I do not like them with a car. We think this southern route will be the one we want.
It seems to me you must be able to hear the roar of the city when you open this letter. I think less of cities than ever before and you know I did not like them ever . . . this will be the last stop in a large city.
It will hardly be worthwhile for me to write you again because we will be following so closely if we have good luck and it seems a pity to spend the time writing about things when I will so soon be able to tell you much better.
We are all well. Rose and I each have gained four pounds and Helen has lost four. It is a hard job, this cross country driving. We got into the traffic at Hollywood last night and it is frightful. There and here the traffic policeman keeps hurrying the cars to drive faster.
We expect to leave for home this afternoon.
Love,
Bessie
We often think of you and your visit here
Rose first met Guy Moyston, a newspaperman, in San Francisco. She later encountered him in Europe. Through the 1920s they carried on a mostly long-distance romance, while careers and residences kept them apart. In 1924 Moyston spent three months on Rocky Ridge, collaborating with Rose on a play and a magazine serial. Rose rebuffed Moyston’s marriage proposal, disappointing her parents, who were fond of him. In 1926 when Laura wrote to Moyston, Rose and Helen were in Paris studying languages at the Berlitz school.
JUNE 28, 1926
Dear Mr. Moyston,
Mr. Wilder and I were glad to hear from you, for we often think of you and your visit here. You may be interested to know that the Jersey cow is just as mean as ever, but Nero [the Airedale terrier] drives her up to the barn now. Nero has grown to be a wonderful dog.
Yes, isn’t this a curious summer. It is a very cold season here but from what we hear. I think it is not so cold as in the east. I suppose you have read the forecast that next summer is to be colder still.
A motor trip to Canada sounds delightful even if the weather was cold, but I am sorry you were disappointed in your vacation plans.
It seems impossible for Mr. Wilder and myself to get away from the farm this summer. We had planned a trip to the Grand Canyon but can find no one with whom we can safely leave the place and the animals.
We are both well as usual.
Wouldn’t it be funny if Rose and Troub [Helen Boylston] should get their languages mixed? What a confusion of tongues it would be.
Thanks for the interest check. [Rose’s finances were occasionally entangled with Moyston’s. Ever mindful of her parents’ needs, she arranged for Moyston to forward some interest proceeds to the Wilders, as payment of a debt to her.]
Best regards from us both.
Sincerely,
Mrs. A. J. Wilder
We hope you’ll be on han
d
Rocky Ridge Farm was known for its hospitality. Costume parties were held there, as were dances, candlelit suppers, club meetings, and card parties. An “heirloom” birthday celebration was planned as Laura turned sixty-one on February 7, 1928. She composed her own rhyming invitation. Though Rose’s name was included, she was not present. At the time, Rose and Helen Boylston were en route home from Albania.
JANUARY 28, 1928
No doubt you have an heirloom
A scarf, a book, a shawl,
A picture or a platter, that good old days recall,
So an heirloom birthday party
for special friends we’ve planned
With old, treasured heirlooms,
We hope you’ll be on hand
And tell us of their birthdays,
So we will understand.
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Rose Wilder Lane
Promptly at 8 p.m.
February 7, 1928
Can it be 50 years ago?
The fiftieth anniversary of De Smet’s founding was the theme of the town’s Old Settlers Day in 1930. Aubrey Sherwood, the energetic publisher of the De Smet News, was passionate about his community’s story. His relatives, the Masters and Sherwood families, were linked with the Ingalls family for generations. Aubrey continued to nurture a friendly rapport with the Ingalls daughters. Laura, Carrie, and Grace each contributed their memories to the golden anniversary edition of the De Smet News. Laura sent her recollections to G. E. Mallery, a De Smet druggist. She also contributed a poem for publication in the News.
MARCH 12, 1930
Dear Sir,
My sister Mrs. D. N. Swanzey [Carrie Ingalls] sent your letter to me asking me to write you what I knew of some of the happenings in the early days of De Smet.
As my father and family were the very first settlers of De Smet, I should be able to tell you all the things you wish to know, but being only a girl I did not pay much attention to some of them. . . .
The Selected Letters of Laura Ingalls Wilder Page 6
