EDITOR’S NOTE: For the next few weeks, we will be sharing entries from Old Tillamook Times, provided by Sandi Burgess Botten Dean, featuring Karen Kranweiss Nudelman’s blog in which she describes the search and book writing that started a little over 10 years ago when she first received “the letters” and began reading. Then came the idea for a story, then a book – “Dear Folks” tells a young man’s story through letters he wrote home to his parents in Tillamook, Oregon.
Blog by Karen Krantweiss Nudelman
Ephemera. This is my new favorite word. I would search for it while perusing online auctions, looking for something to touch, to smell, to marvel at. Anything that would allow me to breathe in history fully. Ephemera can be discarded tickets from a horse race; newspapers and scrapbooks; autographs from classmates; and handwritten letters. Lots and lots of letters. With strange postage stamps and loopy cursive words. Remember letters? Email and texts have won the war of communication. Letters in envelopes, licked and hand stamped, are the underdog. I love the underdog.
Last year, while searching for “ephemera” at www.shopgoodwill.com, I found four lots of letters described as correspondence from WW2 soldier to his parents. I was intrigued and bid on all four lots. Each lot contained approximately 30 letters. From the description, it seemed that they were all from the same family. When the end of the auction loomed near, I noticed I was out of the running for two of the lots. I thought, “That’s okay. As long as I enjoy some of the letters…I don’t need to win all of them.”
The letters arrived on my doorstep in November of last year — November 11. I thought it was fate that they came to me on Veterans Day. The first thing I did was put them in chronological order. Then I began to read. And I couldn’t stop reading. I could not put these letters down.
The letters told the story of 19-year-old Charles W. Hunter. “Chuck” to everyone who knew him. He was from Oregon and all he wanted to do was be a pilot. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1942 (there was no separate Air Force back then. He was called to service in April 1943 and began his classification and training process. Even though he was away from home, he shared take on the experience with his parents, starting each and every letter with the salutation, “Dear folks,”
Chuck served in the Pacific. He never made pilot, but he became a respected radar/radio operator who joined flight crews which carried supplies to the troops. He talked to his parents about the Pacific Islands he visited several times a week, his bunkmates and their quirks and most significantly, his plans for his life after the war ended. He imagined he might be a salesman, married with kids. Settling down in Oregon for the long haul. Taking hunting trips with his dad. Tending to the cows on the dairy farm with his mom.
But it was not to be. The very last letter I read in my pile was a condolence letter from a friend to Mr. and Mrs. Hunter on the loss of their son. These letters I had poured over for hours came to a very abrupt end and for some reason I was totally shocked. I never considered for a moment that he would die. He was so full of life and joy and spunk in these letters. I felt like grieving. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to hug his mother and never let go. Chuck died on September 22, 1945. He survived the war but died in a plane crash due to nasty weather conditions. His family shared that he died while dropping supplies to POW camps to save his comrades who were suffering behind enemy lines. Chuck’s life ended when his plane crashed into a mountaintop near Atsugi Air Base in Japan. He was 21.
I knew in my heart that I was holding a treasure. I decided to create a makeshift memorial to Chuck. I placed his letters in plastic pockets and displayed them prominently in our living room. Every guest who walked into our house was introduced to Chuck and his story. I wanted Chuck to live on. To be remembered. But something sad occurred. No one else would read the letters. I was the only one who took the time to read them all.
About five months had passed since Veterans Day, when I decided to share the letters with a new friend of mine. Kim and I walked our children to elementary school each day. We got to know each other, and I learned she wrote nonfiction articles for my favorite childhood magazine, “Highlights.” It occurred to me that Chuck’s story might make an interesting article. So, I told her briefly about the letters and she was very intrigued. She took the letters home with her and less than 2 days later, I received a phone call from her. She was in tears. I had told her Chuck had died in the war, but she had gotten to know him and adore him in these letters. And while his death was not a shock to her, her attachment to him was very strong. I was beyond thrilled that she read them all! Finally, I could share this experience with someone! I asked her, “So, do you think this could be an article?” She said, “No. It’s not an article. It’s a book. I want to write a book with you about Chuck and his family’s experiences.” My heart began to pound hard. It was an incredible moment. This was going to happen.
While we discussed over lunch our plans and ideas for the book’s structure, we started to ponder all the unanswered questions we both had. There was a significant chunk of letters missing. We barely knew about his training in 1943. Then I remembered…. the other two lots of letters that I didn’t win. The answers were out there. Now I just had to find them. Kim and I both agreed the chances were very slim that the Goodwill in Oregon would take the time to track down the other winner, much less contact them for us. But we had nothing to lose, so why not send a letter?
Meanwhile, my journey to learn more about Chuck’s life led me to the Tillamook County Pioneer Museum. While looking for Chuck’s obituary online, I stumbled upon his sister Helen Hunter’s obituary instead. Helen, like her brother, served in the military. She was a nurse and served in three wars. WWII, Korea and Vietnam. She retired a major after twenty years and spent the rest of her life travelling. Never marrying or having children, she died in 2008 at the age of 88. She left in her estate a significant gift to the Pioneer Museum. They were able to add a new roof with the money she left the institution. And in 2011, they had an exhibit about her life.
I assumed the letters I won in the Goodwill auction must have been donated by the museum. I called them to learn more. I spoke to Caitlin on the phone and told my story. I could almost hear her jaw drop. She had never seen the letters I received. She told me that the museum was the custodian of over 1200 artifacts from the life of the Hunter family. But there were just a few handwritten letters among them. We were both stunned. Caitlin explained that she was the person who poured over those artifacts for three months. She had come to admire and love this family, as well. She was thrilled to learn about our idea for a book.
Over the next few weeks, Caitlin and I both scanned and shared our collections pertaining to Chuck’s story online. Finally, I saw a picture of Chuck for the first time.
With Caitlin and the museum supporting our efforts, it seemed an appropriate time to reach out to the Goodwill Industries of the Columbia-Willamette Oregon and ask for their assistance in finding the other lots of letters. I was clear in my request; I didn’t want to bother the other winner. I just wanted to ask them a few questions about the information in the letter.
It took about three weeks and emails back and forth. The chances felt slimmer, the longer I waited. Then out of the blue, I heard from Joshua. Joshua serves as the manager of the Collectibles section of the Oregon Goodwill e-commerce arm. He was the decision maker. He was intrigued by my story and confirmed my intentions with the folks at the Pioneer Museum. He just had a few more questions. It turns out, he’s a history buff himself and found himself drawn into Chuck’s story like the rest of us. He told me that he would call the other winner immediately. He said email is not the way. He explained that This had to be a personal request over the phone to truly convey the importance uncovering new facts about Chuck’s life. I couldn’t contain my sheer gratitude for his assistance. But I still had reservations. Would the other winner respond? Would he share his information with us?
A few days passed, and I received an email from Joshua giving me an update. He had left several messages, but decided he needed to call in the evening time. The winner lived on the East Coast, like me, and if Joshua was going to reach him, he would need to call after his workday ended. I was touched by his persistence. My heart allowed itself to feel some hope.
Meanwhile Kim shared with me a surprising personal connection to Chuck. Her husband Mike’s grandfather was an airplane mechanic in WW2. Both Chuck and Mike’s grandfather were at the same base in Texas at the same time. And Mike’s dad was born on that base. It was highly likely that these two men crossed paths.
Then the call I wasn’t expecting but wished for came. Joshua had been successful. He reached the other winner and she agreed to contact me. For some reason, I was surprised it was a woman. I’ll call her J. from Georgia. Like me, she was fascinated with ephemera. But her passion was for the Victorian age. She had over 6,000 photographs from the late 19th century. She was a junkie like me. We clicked right away over the phone.
Two days later, on my porch, another parcel from Fed-Ex arrived. J did not send me copies. Nor did she scan the letters. She GAVE me all the original letters. She told me that the world needed to hear Chuck’s story.
I am forever grateful for her kindness, and everyone whom I’ve met along this journey. Strangers helping strangers to share the story of, remarkably, another stranger. It doesn’t matter that miles and decades separate all of us. We are linked by the desire to be connected to the past. Not just read about it. Or watch a tv documentary. But to breathe it in. To be one with the ephemera.
https://www.tillamookcountypioneer.net/old-tillamook-times-dear-folks-introduction-to-series/