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XXVI Address all letters now to Navy #3247 FPO San Fran. Thursday 19 October 5 pm Henry says to “give them my best”, looking at that nice little triptych which I always stand up in front of me now when I write- Hi Sweetie- I'm sitting on the stone verandah of the Honolulu Army-Navy [Unlisted?] Men's Club, a convenient place for meeting Henry because he can take a taxi here for a quarter- a few feet from me hundreds of men come and go by the minute, but I'm relatively free of the mob because of some sheltering palms and bushes. Henry sold me on an evening visit to the Honolulu Art Gallery where he spent the afternoon of his day off, after I went back. I came in early to get a haircut, intrigued by the idea of female barbers (half the shops in town are run by women, Chinese or Japanese or a general mixture - they all seem to have had several years’ experiences). Unfortunately, I breezed into one with only Chinese - after I’d been thinking: I'll keep my mouth shut, hear what they have to say behind customers’ backs, and then when I go to pay ask “Ikura ka?” (how much?) and say in my best accent, “Arrigato,” with a sly and self-satisfied grin…so I'll have to do that another time. The girls were funny. Two of the six looked sexy in a minxish little way; the other four were just unpretty reasonably wholesome looking girls of 20-25. But they all used the lines that you’d expect the two made-up ones to monopolize - cat-called and waved at potential customers, called them “honey”, advertised “massage, massage!” with just a suggestion of lewdness, and even offered “#69 massage” (if you get that one). The one I had was plump, plain and goodnatured; she volunteered the information that “since the cat houses were closed” -Honolulu did virtually wipe out its fairly open prostitution recently - they had been kept pretty busy, the implication being that they were busy [pg 2] turning down propositions. The greater proportion of them, at least. (The other day I heard a slip of a girl working in the 5 and 10 accept the persistent requests of a pleasantly happy sergeant that she meet him after work to sleep with him, by saying impatiently (because she was busy with customers) “yes, yes, yes!”) After my haircut - which isn't bad - I stopped at the 5 and 10 for 6 of those little whiskey glasses, jigger size, that we used to have or perhaps still do in [H?] For earlier this afternoon I committed a most delicious extravagance: I went to my liquor rationing place for some wine to put away for occasion, as well as some whiskey for Henry (who had 2 bottles swiped just after he’d bought them yesterday, poor guy; he enjoys his nightly drink so much - but he can have Tom [M?] ration as the latter doesn't use it) and guess what I saw - D.O.M. véritable Bénédictine! [I don't vouch for the accents) - $8.80 Of course I bought it, adding a bottle of brandy for B+B's, and will tuck it away to bring out on the one occasion which is worthy of it. I feel immensely proud of the purchase and as though I could ask for nothing more short of a trip home. I'm a little ahead of myself; actually we’re back at Henry's, for I went off in search of him in the middle of the 2nd paragraph. It was getting a little past the time when I expected him, and suddenly reminded of what he prosaically calls his absent-mindedness (which it is) I thought: when I phoned he suggested the Young Hotel. [pg 3] I said, How about the Y where the taxi goes to? He agreed that o.k., that would be fine. He was at the Young Hotel, and with a little time out for an undistinguished but reliable dinner at a Y dining room we went to the Academy of Art, a couple of snapshots of which are enclosed. I enjoyed the evening there thoroughly, and I think you would have too. One large room was devoted to an exhibition of paintings of all periods and schools, European and Oriental, on the theme of “Painting without Prejudice”, well-written, informative little paragraphs posted at intervals explained various mediums, the relationship of color, composition, perspective, etc., impressed me as probably effective for those with a potential feeling for painting but unfortunate academic associations. Another room did the same thing for sculpture and I found it equally absorbing. In talking at the reception desk with a Mrs. Watson, [Quote from the other occupant of this room - “One thing that's nice about this laundry, it always sends you a surprise. Some pajamas I don't remember paying for, and a cap cover 4 sizes too small. It adds spice…”] I learned that Dotsie Kneubuhl has been here for 2 weeks (her mother is director of the academy) - If I have time, which I doubt, I'll look her up. Also that Mrs. Watson, who teaches children's art classes there, at one [pg 4] time had Reuben [T?] as a pupil. Remember him at International House? -Worked in the cafeteria. Some of his painting is at the Whitney Museum. I was sorry there was none here. Henry wants to take drawing at the University. He and Jean seem to have got lots of fun out of their pastel and watercolor efforts in Boulder. Szathman has really hit on something - made friends with a Japanese woodcarver here and is spending his time learning the art, or craft. Have just read a letter from Hugh, in Australia, to Henry. “A few days ago I had a fine letter from [J?] Oki in Melbourne…Toni is working at CBS - exactly what she is doing I will learn from her next letter. I think she will like it, and also be enabled to save some money for post-war use…too bad Warren Johnston had to leave New York. If you see him, give him my regards…Our life here is usually dull but fairly comfortable. There are lots of women, and many of the Yanks (that's what we are called universally) are shacked up, as the phrase goes.” He goes on to speak of Dutt's book on India as valuable, and of looking forward to Edgar Snow's latest. You might investigate them for me. Time to go to bed, or a little past it. Henry has turned off his desk lamp and rolled over, mumbling a few last reflections on the subject of personalities and personal objective (following our brief discussion of Hugh, whom Henry described aptly as a very practical man on a high level). So I guess I had better go away and leave him alone Goodnight, darling Warren
