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https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/ab9392292162fb8f957fda94195b2351.pdf
f534b8a131726564c9c3104033cf55f4
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/87b975db7c12ded3c02a28fe52fb6bb8.doc
75cc7a9fd7d058bedf9c53c5dd71c0cd
Historical Documents
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Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
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<p>5</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dearest Family: </p>
<p> I started to write a letter the other day to mail before I left Monrovia but as I was writing it I found that I was not to leave until Tuesday instead of Friday as scheduled. In consequence I was forced to unpack all my photographic outfit and personal clothes for another five days. It was quite a blow.</p>
<p> My last letter was dashed off in order to get in into the mail in time for the boat and I am afraid that it was pretty illegible toward the end. It was a relief to get out of town for those two days and actually get out into the bush for I must admit that Monrovia has very little to offer in the way of entertainment and of course it was my first trip on a really tropical river. On its lower stretches it is flanked by wall of palm fronds – solid walls which wave in the breeze – not trees growing but just a mass of leaves growing out of the water, and in places were scattered mangroves altho they were soon left behind. As we worked further upstream, the scenery slowly changed – the palms grew into trees, the whole vegetation became taller and took on the rich tropical green. Vines became more frequent and soon we began to pass giant silk cotton trees, tremendous things towering 150 ft. or more, with straight gray trunks which send out massive horizontal branches as they near the top. And as we progressed further the huge trees came closer and closer to the water in some places completely overhanging the stream and the vines dropping from their tops all the way into the water screen off completely in spots the jungle behind.</p>
<p> The river is extremely twisty – in one place, for example, there is a cut off less than 100 yds. Long which saves 20 minutes travel on the river in the launch. You always are going around right angle bends so that your vision is quite limited. Here and there we passed dugout canoes loaded with an entire family and produce either silently paddling or drawn up along the side of the stream waiting for us to pass. And occasionally little landing places where a few naked, or nearly naked, men, women and children stood in the deep shade of the jungle to watch us pass. We also met three of the big whale boats being rowed up stream by steaming blacks – rice going up to the plantations.</p>
<p> In case I didn’t describe the plantations, I will say a few words about them now. They are huge clearings at present through which are scattered half burnt logs and stumps. The system of clearing is as follows: first, they fell the trees, every one of them, cut with axes. It is quite impressive to hear the men at work yelping (so it sounds) from one to another all the time. When a tree is ready to all the yelps increase and when it crashes to the ground with a roar like thunder the chorus becomes almost deafening. It is really quite impressive. These trees are now stripped of their branches which are packed to the ground that they may burn better. Then when they are dry the whole mass is burnt in one big fire. What trunks and stumps are left are removed by rot and insects. In this way since November they have cleared several thousand acres on each of the three divisions we visited. No. 1, where we spent the night, is the largest, about 4000 acres, while No. 3, where we are to say, is the smallest and the chopping is near at hand. At each Division there is a bungalow on stilts – usually on some barren knoll near the center where a long white man stays in charge of the division. No. 1 is the only one on which they have set out any trees, little spikes now which in five years will begin to yield latex. </p>
<p> Coming down the river we saw two crocodiles, a few monkeys and birds of all descriptions, steel blue swallows with a white patch on their throats, kingfishers with orange bellies and breasts and iridescent blue backs; slate gray warbler- like birds which hopped from vine to vine always just above the water; huge awkward hornbills, croaking in the lofty treetops; and an occasional white and black eagle perched on some dead stub or soaring majestically in the air. And just as we were nearing Duport we shot at, with no apparent damage, a beautiful cinnamon colored teal with bright pale blue patches on his wings.</p>
<p> That takes us up to my last letter. Since then we have done much and accomplished little. From a medical standpoint we have found one excellent case of Bilharzia (you can look it up) a parasite which lodges in the small veins of the bladder and lays eggs which penetrate into it. In consequence blood in the urine is a symptom. This patient showed microscopically not only the eggs but the hatched ciliated trematodes. These pass into a certain kind of snail in which they change into adult form when they again pass out into the water and are ready to burrow thru the skin of any luckless bather. Another thing we found was a nematode which kills cocoanut palms. It is one of two animal parasites which are known to affect plants and as far as we know it will be the first time that it has been described from Africa. We have also found malaria parasites in the monkey which I shot, another new find so far as we know.</p>
<p> To continue chronologically – We had dinner at Mr. Bussell’s on Wednesday night (July 14<sup>th</sup>) the day I last wrote. He is a very pleasant broad faced Virginian who is in charge of customs here and, on the side, on the big government wheels as far as the U.S.A. is concerned. His wife, who came to Liberia in February to marry him is also extremely pleasant. She came out here against all her family’s wishes – of course they had no animosity toward Bussell – but rather dreaded the country. They showed us several small statuettes, some native spears and a native harp. This is shaped as follows <Drawing of a native harp> with a half gourd for a base which is placed against the chest as a sound box. The strings are then held horizontal when played. </p>
<p> Thursday (15<sup>th</sup>) was largely spent in unpacking as we have just got our supplies through the customs. We also interviewed numerous boys who came with recommendations for steward boys. Of course I suspect veracity of many employers and I also suspect that the bearer is not always the boy for whom the recommendation has been written. Still, what can you do? As Hal’s and my boys had both been sacked in the morning we took on a gun and camera boy respectively to act as stewards for our stay here. Later we found that Hal’s gun boy was distasteful to others already hired and that he had been in jail twice for stealing – so he is no longer with us. And although Gaybar (pronounced Gebber) is good I suspect him of being a little too sophisticated for the bush in the rainy season. However, he is intelligent and thoughtful. In the evening I did my first developing which came out successfully and the negatives dried by the next noon even though it rained hard all night long. </p>
<p> Friday (16<sup>th</sup>) we continued to repack – a whole morning spent running up and down stairs, opening trunks and dividing the outfit up into various lots to go, not to go and doubtful. We have brought a good deal more than we need and our transport system is going to be awkward enough as it is without adding extra men for unnecessary luxuries.</p>
<p> In the afternoon Hal and I paid some bills down town and I called on Farmer where I chatted for about an hour. He is a very agreeable slow self confessed tramp who hoped to get a job with much title and no work. He got six titles or so and is now bored to death because there is nothing to do. He has gone down to Grand Bassa to build a government warehouse and he says he is going to take as long as he can for he may not get another job for a long time and he wants to make this one last. In the evening I again developed, this time movies, with fair success and much effort. It comes easier now that I have practiced more.</p>
<p> Saturday (17<sup>th</sup>) was spent once more packing and this time we really could see a little daylight after the morning was over. Hal’s and my room which had been a mass of guns, tin trunks, cameras, tripods, duffle bags, etc. has now cleared slightly and we don’t have to continually hurdle the many obstacles as we walk across the room.</p>
<p> After lunch, the chief, Dr. Shattuck, Dr. Willis (our host) and I went forth in search of congo town, a village supposedly made up of congo slaves whose chief virtue is a high rate of degeneracy. We set out in Mr. Ross’ car – a Dodge sedan – with a colored driver who didn’t know that second speed was used on hills. In consequence he would run as far as possible in high, slipping his clutch toward the end to get more speed out of the motor. Then on would go the brakes, the car might or might not stall, and we would go into low speed. He also had the ability to magnify absolutely every bump, and he never missed a hole in the road if he could find it. When we got to congo town we found a neat little village of thatch topped mud huts but no people. We were directed to another one further on. And this new one was wrong, and so on. We visited three congo towns, non of which were right, until we found that the true place had originally been the one we first visited but had long since been abandoned though kept up by the road gang for appearance’s sake. We stopped at the Mt. Barclay (Firestone) rubber plantation where we found our Bilharzia patient. </p>
<p> The rubber trees are very surprising. First they are spaced in even rows so that they always appear in lines, secondly, there is no undergrowth. Thirdly, they look remarkably clean and neat. Fourthly, they are about 40 feet tall and slender, looking very much like a cross between a young maple tree with the shape of a birch tree though with less branches. This plantation originally belonged to an English concern whom the government ran out of business by raising the tax to six-pence a pound when the sales value was the same. In addition they wanted sixpence a pound for all the former rubber which had only been taxed at threepence. Firestone now rents the land from the government at a ridiculously low figure. Of course the government tried first to run it but failed. We met Mr. Piggot, in charge, a thin Scotsman in shorts with heavily tatooed arms.</p>
<p> We had dinner with the Hines, a large affair with fourteen present. The hors d’oeuvres were a meal in themselves. After the meal we sat around and talked or danced to the tune of a very squeaky victrola placed round the corner. And, of course, the floor was only rough porch planking. Bed at 1.30.</p>
<p> Sunday (18<sup>th</sup>) The laboratory was in session this morning studying the specimens from the Bilharzia patient. We also did some more crating of chemicals and medicines, which for me finishes my packing except my clothes, and I assorted them. In the afternoon Dr. Strong and I went out to collect some leaves from a cassava patch which we saw was blighted. When we got back I took pictures of the leaves, both sick and healthy. After that Dr. and Mme. Bonet came in for tea and I had to accompany her songs on the uke. She knows not only most of the American songs but also the words for them. She has a very high soprano voice which is quite good. Once more I developed till 12, got 40 negatives done however.</p>
<p> Monday (19<sup>th</sup>) After puttering round packing away negatives or making rather poor sunprints, I went out to take pictures of pawpaw trees, breadfruit trees and other vegetation which the chief wants.</p>
<p> The afternoon was spent, or most of it, in Krutown, the native settlement if you could call it that when most of Monrovia is black too. The Kru boys are probably the best known negroes on the west coast and are by far the most travelled, working up and down the coast on the freighters. We descended upon the town armed with cameras to take their pictures. As soon as we got there we were surrounded by a crowd of little naked savages from the cradle up of both sexes and all ages. They danced about in front of the cameras as merrily as you please and we took movies of them. But when we wanted to film the streets, they continued their antics making it almost impossible. While we were still on the beach taking the kids as they raced for us or jumped over dugout canoes, a great big 6’2 buck nigger in a blue cloth draped about him like a toga came out brandishing a club. Evidently a head man trying to restore order I had already put my camera away but, at a wink from the chief, I got it out while he called to the retreating man. As he came back and expostulated with the chief I took his movie. Then Hal and I, like two pied pipers, led a parade of kids thru Krutown, at least 50 of them, whom we could not shake in any way. Every time we lifted our cameras they darted in front and danced up and down before us. One old lady came out brandishing a knife – but she danced for us. Two girls working with huge wooden mortars fled as we started the machinery. And so it went until the crowd became too boisterous and all picture taking must needs cease. </p>
<p> We returned to the House, got Dr. Strong and went out to visit the cocoanut palm grove near the French wireless station. The chief was out for this before mentioned nematode and, sure enough, after an hour examining trees, we finally chopped one down which subsequently yielded the little round worms which, though microscopic, clog the circulation of the trees.</p>
<p> Hal and I had dinner with Mr. Farmer. It was a very pleasant evening, chatting about Liberia and Africa in general, Monrovia and ourselves in particular.</p>
<p> Tuesday (20<sup>th</sup>) Mr. Ross, the general manager of the Firestone plantations Co. in Liberia, and Mr. and Mrs. Hines arrived to take us out to the Mt. Barclay plantation. I took some pictures and a movie of a boy climbing a tree which was subsequently shown to be pas bon pour la moose. We visited the factory where they first pour the rubber either into big boxes partitioned off or into trays. The first coagulate in slabs like bacon and about the same size which is then smoked until I am sure that it could be passed off as bacon to a near sighted person. The stuff in trays, on the other hand, is pressed into white thin mats which when smoked are almost transparent. Of course, before smoking, they are a rich creamy white.</p>
<p> In the afternoon, Dr. Allen, Bequaert, Linder and I drove out the Duport Road to collect flowers and take a few pictures which took us till about 4.00, and in the evening, more developing.</p>
<p> Wednesday (21<sup>st</sup>) Dr. Shattuck, Theiler, and Hal and I went aback to Kru town to make a medical survey of all the children available. The system is as follows: We set up two wooden boxes in a assort of square upon which were placed glass slides, alcohol and ether pills, etc., our supplies. The movie camera was then set up both as a decoy and to film the proceedings. Then we started, each youth was felt for the size of the spleen and liver and a drop of blood was taken from the lob of his ear which was made into smears on slides and numbered, and so on. Soon we had such a crowd that we had to back up against a wall to keep the populace in front only, the rain had something to do with this too. As for the kids, we found that, unless we were careful, they came back for a second or third time. Fortunately the right ear would have the telltale prick. During this, Harold and I wandered around, this time without a host, taking pictures of the streets and people. A girl mixing grain in a big wooden bowl, two men weaving nets, an albino child and a woman with elephantiasis of the legs. It was a relief to get away from the pressing mob of rather dirty children for a while.</p>
<p> After the medical end was thru, Hal and I took a dugout canoe and went for a photographic tour of the inside harbor, taking pictures of the bar and the water front, as well as the island where the original settlers were forced to live due to the hostility of the natives. It is a little island barely above water with a huge tree growing out of it. And on it are about 15 close packed thatch huts in which natives are living. Rather damp I suspect.</p>
<p> In the afternoon it rained as usual so that we were forced to putter round the house. A case of elephantiasis came round by request when I photographed. Besides elephantiasis he had the queerest set of teeth of anybody I have ever seen. They were irregularly cubical in shape with flat tops, just a band of putty-like material about ¾ of an inch thick with irregular lines as dividing marks between. The gums were practically absent.</p>
<p> In the evening I again developed, this time, 200 ft. of movies before dinner and 3 dozen still pictures afterwards. </p>
<p> Thursday (22<sup>nd</sup>) Rain spoiled going to Mt. Barclay to take pictures. By the way, while I am thinking of it, there is not mountain at Mt. Barclay. It is just a name, I got my photographic outfit dried and packed from A-2, all my clothes put away and locked up and all set to go tomorrow when the plans were changed and I found that I was to wait until Tuesday. I was rather discouraged, not only because I must unpack, but because I must sit four more days in this place, a morning wasted. In the afternoon Hal and I went forth with our cameras to see what we could see. We shot various scenes along the waterfront depicting the life in Monrovia. However, it is much too active there to be typical. Whenever we changed films we had the customary crowd around us peering over our shoulders to see what we were doing with our queer machinery. One our way home we bought a set of Liberian stamps o show the fascinating shapes and pictures thereon. I think that they make more from souvenir stamp hunters than from actual sale for mail purposes.</p>
<p> As we were returning, a boy told us that Mr. Wharton wanted to see us so we dropped in at the American legation to see him. He is a young chap, slightly colored, who is in the American diplomatic corps. He is quite bright as far as I can make out and very agreeable. He was sent here on account of his color. He told us that he had received a letter from President King which authorized a blanket hunting license to cover all game for all the party for nothing. Good fortune for us. We sat around and talked to him for about an hour until the rain let up and we could go home to dress fro this evening’s Banquet with the President at the mansion. </p>
<p>Harold and I supplied Theiler and Shattuck with white coats for the evenings entertainment while Dr. Strong supplied all the rest either with mess jackets or evening coats – the order of the evening. Then at 8.00, Mr. Ross and Mr. Hines came for us and we drove off. As we entered, the band played in our honor. We were ushered into the reception room where we were introduced to the president and members of his cabinet. There were some 36 of us of whom 17 were white. Eight of us – Mr. Ross and Mr. Hines, Drs. Willis, Fuszek, Bonet and Woerly – Mr. Bussell and Mr. Clark (The American Consul) and an unnamed youth in the Methodist mission service. After a while we were led one by one as if going to jail into the dining room and seated, a slow procedure. Then when all were present the band played the Liberian national anthem and the President entered.</p>
<p> Dinner started, croquettes, fish, meat, ice cream, pie, etc., and with each a different kind of win and in the interim the band played. Now, when you consider that the band is the product of three years labor on bush boys it is rather astounding that they can now read music and play the various orchestral instruments. Still, without that knowledge, the discords were enough to drive one mad. And the selections played were quite choice. Of course they were all printed on the menu with the composer’s name. First came “Yes sir She’s My Baby” which was followed by the “Missouri”, “Last Night On the Back Porch”, the “Mikado” and “Cavalieria Rusticana” plus a few others whose names I have forgotten, quite a choice selection to drown our conversation.</p>
<p> But, at last, the President got up and spoke about Coolidge (Cal not Hal) as a man whose motto was “Deeds not Words” as was the motto of the Liberian government. (can you tie that). He also said that the President (Cal) would be watching our progress and that courtesy to us was courtesy to him, etc. Mr. Clark got up next and replied at the same time, saying that Hal was no relation to Cal, only in less familiar terms. Next came the chief who outlined the work of the expedition at the same time confounding them with medical terms concerning the Bilharzia, Palm nematode and yellow fever. They were duly impressed. And last, but not least, Ex-President Barclay made a pleasant though slightly inaccurate address which started with a history of Harvard College, how Greenleaf, a Harvard graduate, had helped them and how we would continue to help them and that they were closely connected with Harvard in consequence. </p>
<p> That ended the dinner. We sat around outside in desultory conversation watching our clocks and hoping that it would soon be over. We left a little after one o’clock.</p>
<p> Friday (23d) We got up at about 6.30 to see Allen, Bequaert and Linder off in the pouring rain for the Du and No. 3 where they are to set up camp. I don’t envy them the rain but wish that I had gone with them instead of waiting until Tuesday in order to take pictures of the National holiday on Monday. Then we more or less sat in a sleepy fashion while it poured outside. I started to get out my outfit again, unpacked some chemicals and generally settled back. Some of us read, and all morning it just poured.</p>
<p> In the afternoon Hal and I went out to buy two muzzle loading gun for the native hunters and to send a cable home. Before we left however, Mr. Tui (so pronounced) came in to call. He is a colored hunter who is optimistic about getting all kinds of game altho Sir Alfred Sharp when out with him got no elephants. However, he is an interesting chap and we had a very pleasant time showing him our guns and discussing the country thru which we hope to pass. When Hal and I got to the cable office at 4.15 we found that by the time of the outside world it was 5.00 and we were just in time. We sent the message to Mr. Coolidge and signed it Coolidge Whitman in hopes that you would have it forward to you. If you do get it I think you will be amused at the wording which is taken from the Western Union Travellers’ Code Book.</p>
<p> When we got back to the house I mixed up developer, etc., and did 200 ft. of movies before supper for I am tired tonight and I want to get to bed early for a change.</p>
<p>Saturday (24<sup>th</sup>) Today has been largely spent in writing this letter although I did go downtown for about an hour and a half to see about sending off some films and to talk with a Mr. Denis, also colored, who was connected with Schomberg who had the pleasure of filming Liberia about a year ago. I find that this gentleman, whose films by the way are excellent, spent four months in the dry season here with two professional movie men, taking over 50,000 feet. Really what chance have I with my small outfit and straight pictures to handle in the bargain. But then, such is life. Mr. Denis was pessimistic about film keeping even after development but as today is Saturday and I must have a consular certificate before I can send stuff home I am up a tree. However, I may be able to ship just the same.</p>
<p> Now, in case I do, I will send it all to 78 Chauncy Street. If possible, have it sent to the Eastman Kodak Co. for rejuvenation but not printing unless you wish some of it reduced to small size for your own personal use. Do not let any of it be seen broadcast as Dr. Strong does not want to have anybody see it before we get back. He also doesn’t want anything published unless I first show it to him and then send it on with special notice. So don’t let William try to rehash these letters unless I tell him to.</p>
<p> Another thing – If I send any ordinary film, take them to Solatia Taylor on Bromfield Street, having them washed if necessary and printed, 2 each, set of which can be sent to us here if there is time. Our present plant is to leave Monrovia about the middle of November so that stuff shipped by the first of October will surely reach us unless they are completely lost. The other set can be kept for the family but again, under no circumstances, must it be broadcast, sold or used in any way. And tell them to absolutely sure that they do not get them mixed up otherwise I will never to able to identity them after I have made a year’s collection.</p>
<p>* * * * * * *</p>
<p> I wrote this last on Saturday and now it is Monday and I am in bed with a slight fever. It’s a great life. Here I have stayed over for four days to take photographs of the Liberian holiday – Independence Day – and now I am in bed with no movies taken. They think I have Dengue Fever – a perfectly harmless fever which lasts for about three days and has a fatality of less than 1/10 of 1%. It has for symptoms a splitting headache, especially round the eyes, a fever, a rash and rheumatic-like pains in the joints. It is quite common in the tropics and is mosquito born, the same mosquito which transmits yellow fever. I have never sweat so much in all my life. My pajamas and bed clothes are soaking wet and I did have the splitting headache altho, at the moment, 15 grains of aspirin have taken it away. The worst of it is I don’t know whether I can go up river tomorrow as planned and I have been unable to make any arrangements about sending home films, etc. Still, while there is life there is hope.</p>
<p> I got your cable this morning which was very cheering altho since your letter dated about June 14<sup>th</sup> have had no news up till now. However a mail boat came in this morning and, if we don’t go tomorrow, I will undoubtedly get mail up to July 1<sup>st</sup>. It will be very pleasant for, after all, one letter in six and a half weeks is awful little. And I am glad that you like my letters even tho they are degenerating from week to week. </p>
<p> Saturday afternoon Hal and I went over to the British legation with Mr. and Mrs. Hines to call on the Mills family, a farewell call as Hal was leaving early Sunday morning. They have a civet cat over there which was let out for exercise and then cased all over the house in an endeavor to recapture it. It is far from tame and would gladly put his teeth thru you if it got the chance. After supper I developed some more movies making my total 1000 ft.</p>
<p>At six o’clock Sunday morning we all got up with much bustling and moving of tin trunks. All Dr. Shattuck’s and Harold’s things were loaded onto the truck along with some of mine and Theiler’s. Then boys were counted and the baggage was off. We sat around and waited – where was Mr. Ross? At last he came in his Dodge and we all went out to say goodbye. But we were a little premature for when he went to start his car was completely dead. We worked on it for over an hour before we finally commandeered a Ford to take the travellers to Duport. Soon after that I went down to Dr. Bonet’s to take some pictures for him – an antelope and a leopard skin and a tropical alces. Most of the time was spent, however, chatting with Madame Bonet. In the afternoon I went down to Wolo’s house to take some photos of him and his wife in native costume as well as of his entire family. Of course, then I had to sit and talk with them all until about four. As I was walking slowly home I first began to realize that I was getting a headache. So I mixed my chemicals early that I might get as much done before dinner as possible. But while I was working I began to get colder and colder. I started to shiver and even a coat didn’t help. And I felt weak too. I stopped work and lay down until supper when Dr. Strong took my temperature which was about 100.6. And as soon as possible afterwards I went to bed. At 2.30 I had another chill, this time with two blankets over me and my had under them, my teeth were chattering and, after that, I started to sweat, just run water and have ever since. I tried to get up this morning but, after feeling progressively worse, I lay down again. I am in bed now.</p>
<p> By the way, my camera boy, Gaybar Togay wants me to get him some khaki trousers and some gray flannels which he says he will pay for when they come. Now, one trouble is that he may not pan out and may get fired in which case I would be out of luck. And again, if they did come I think that he would find them a little more expensive than he planned. However, I think I will run the risk. Get two pair of khaki long trousers about my size but large enough round the leg, not yid pants. And get good substantial tho not too expensive ones. And send two pairs of gray flannels of like nature. About a 32 waist and 32 length. </p>
<p> I guess this letter is long enough for the present. My next will be send, I suppose, in about three weeks from the Du plantation and may be the last for a long while. Our plans at present are to spend two weeks or so up the Du, then move on three or four days and set up a new base camp from which we can set off on side journeys. As Liberia is only about 250-300 miles long we can cover it in about three weeks steady travelling and as we do not plan to leave before November 12<sup>th</sup> we will have plenty of time to go on side trips. Whether we will be able to send out mail from the interior or not remains to be seen. </p>
<p> But, enough said for now. My bestest love to you all at home and please remember me to all my friends. And soon I will have something more interesting to write about. </p>
<p> Your most affectionate son,</p>
<p> Loring </p>
<p>P.S. – I have just received two letters dated 17<sup>th</sup> and 23d. I tell you there is nothing like news from home. And do send Joe de Ganahl a wedding present.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> And again my best love to you all and tell Aunt Jenny that I hope that by this time she is better than she has ever been before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>P.S.S. It is now Thursday and I am still in bed though I will probably get up today as my temperature is normal. I had a variation in temperature up to 103 so I am now told and I don’t believe I have ever sweated so much in all my life. It was not malaria. But I will probably be able to go up the Du in a couple days and at present I feel fine and much rested.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Again my best love to you all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Loring. </p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Dearest Family, July 12 - 25, 1926
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Identifier
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VAD2036-U-00095E
Coverage
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Mount Barclay Plantation, Montserrado County, Liberia
Area now known as: Mount Barclay, Montserrado County, Liberia
Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Duport, Montserrado County, Liberia
Du (Dukwia) River, Liberia
Congo Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Kru Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Area now known as: Current Free Port of Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 1, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 1, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 2, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2 Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 3, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 4, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Birds
Canoes
Cities & towns
Diseases
Drawings
Laborers
Leisure
Luggage
Performances
Politics &government
Rivers
Rubber plantations
Trees
Villages
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<p>No. 8</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dearest Family: </p>
<p> “The time has come,” the walrus said, “to continue my narrative.” How we traversed many miles of Liberian wilderness to finally return safe and sound to Monrovia, our starting point. In an impassioned, but somewhat reckless, letter written in a very short time, I tried to describe our events up to the 22<sup>nd</sup> of September at which time we were on the verge of dividing the party into two groups so that we might cover more territory with the greatest of ease. As you will remember we left Monrovia on the 2<sup>nd</sup> of August for the “Du” – the Firestone plantations on the Du River. We stayed there about two weeks in the rain before setting out on our journey into the interior. From there we worked our way in small groups and with many delays thru Lango, Kaka, Memmeh’s, Reppu’s towns – Miamu station, Zeanshu, Suakoko to Gbanga – our destination and base camp. Here we collected ravenously plants, animals, birds, insects, etc., as well as bits of skin and other medical trophies to be examined under more satisfactory conditions in the home laboratory. Then we prepared to move and it was at that time that I wrote, but so hastily. Now I will continue in a more leisurely and I hope satisfactory and complete manner.</p>
<p> As the time of departure came closer we all began to start suggesting the most satisfactory way of using the remaining time in Liberia. Dr. Bequaert had an idea that he would like very much to see the more mountainous (or so it was reported) area in the northern section of the country. His plans were to work slowly north and west to the St. Paul’s River, collecting as he went, to then set up a base camp and possibly make side trips over to the nearest mountains. Dr. Allen and Linder both decided in favor of that, too. On the other hand, Dr. Strong, backed by Coolidge, wanted to make as big a traverse of the country as possible and had set their hearts on going to Cape Palmas via the Cavalla River. I wanted to go with the Northern party but knew that I would have to stay with Strong to take pictures so I had no say in the matter. Shattuck and Theiler also were fixed by fate, Dr. George with us, Theiler with Bequaert and Co. And so it came to pass that we separated in Gbanga into two groups, a collecting (Bequaert, Linder and Allen) and a medical (Strong and Shattuck). Theiler was the medical of the one, while Hal and I were to be the collecting agents for the other. The only drawback was that I wanted to be with the other group, both for the company, particularly Allen’s, and for the chance to help in the collections, not forgetting the fact that I knew we would travel more slowly, thereby seeing more and to better advantage. I was not sold on a rush trip thru miles of country as I knew I was in for. But so much for the plans – I must be on with my chronology.</p>
<p> The last couple of days together at Gbanga were spent in packing – extra chemicals must be thrown away – my dark room outfit must be packed – clothes assorted and part put in one trunk to go directly to Monrovia, part in the travelling outfit. Hal in the meantime packed the expedition food. Dr. Shattuck packed the medical supplies. The others, however, continued their collecting with the same clock like regularity as before. Then came the night of departure – a rather sad affair for me – for try as I did I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to fail and that I couldn’t have Allen’s company again for many days, and then only for a short period of time before he sailed for home. However, we had an after dinner liquer in celebration of the affair and of our last night together. I also got out my ukulele and played many odds and ends of songs for the benefit of the party. Then later Theiler, Linder and I went down to the Mandingo village to see some dancing that was going on. It was a beautiful moonlight night – a soft, mellow night – with gentle breezes catching me saying “Stay awhile – don’t rush off – just see the beauty of the evening about you.” And in the village we watched the swaying white bodies – for they wear simple white gowns – weaving back and forth in the dimlight to the stirring beat of a native drum. This one is particular was fitting for it was made of two hollow calabashes cut in half and floated upside down in a basin of water and beaten with another small one with a handle. <Drawing of calabash floating in basin> The music, for it was music, had a peculiar resonance, fitting the dim mud huts half absorbed in nothingness, the obscure white swaying figures and the half-seen black ring of people squatting around the dancers. Two were particularly clever and did not limit themselves to the common everyday stampings. In fact they had all the grace and charm that a stage dancer is supposed to possess combined with a litheness and suppleness far superior to the average. It was really quite remarkable to see these two silently weaving in the moonlit square – now coming together, now floating silently apart, with never an appearance of joints. Of course this sounds like a “Hula” dance, but it was not. In fact many of their steps were those which we see upon the Casanova stage – honest. And many of their swaying motions reminded me of “the reapers”. It was very impressive. </p>
<p> Then we went back to camp, and bed. In the morning there was the usual rush and bustle of packing, getting the loads out into a line, getting breakfast and getting knives and forks. Everybody rushes. Everybody tried to do everything until at last some order was established and we actually started to accomplish something. Eventually Shattuck loaded the men while I took pictures of the process and of their subsequent departure. Coolidge collected all the knives and forks: the necessity for this was – at breakfast we all decided that each one give his utensils to his boy to wash up and pack. Theoretically this would mean four sets to go and four sets to stay. Actually some didn’t follow this advice and left their dishes which others absent-mindedly picked up. And to complicate matters the boys finally mixed them up by deciding that their masters need more. As it was we had an awful job getting enough cutler and plates, etc. to serve our needs.</p>
<p> At the last minute the D.C. presented us with about ten chickens and ducks, a gift that required two porters, thanks to the elaborate cage in which they were to be transported. Then came the final goodbyes and good lucks and we were off – on a marathon with the sea as its final objective. 68 loads – September 24, 1926.</p>
<p> It was a beautiful day, but hot, very hot even in the early morning, and we were again on that same open road which acted as a wonderful reflecting medium. No shade. No cool sports where we could sit down and enjoy life. Just plug, plug, plug. Hal and I decided that we would walk ahead of the porters and put as many miles behind us as we could before the sun really climbed up on high. So we set forth at a fairly good pace and soon were by ourselves. As it was our first safari together we had plenty to talk about and after all there was not much else to do. The scenery was just as dull, if not duller, than that which we saw on our travels to Gbanga and as I have said, it was hot! So we sweated along until about eleven o’clock, cooling our brows in every stream we crossed. At eleven we came to a small town where there was an extremely dirty kitchen in which we plunked ourselves and waited. The chief brought us some very bitter oranges, some eggs, and as usual rice, all of which we accepted – and waited. After about half an our we looked around us a bit and found a tremendously thin lady of whom I took a picture. Then we went back to the shade. Soon afterwards Strong and Shattuck arrived and also sat down. In the meanwhile I spotted a pair of brass bracelets which looked more like cuffs and which I bought. I also got a knife there while the chief bought a sword. The man wanted 17 shillings and the chief offered 11 – which he accepted – but then repented. However, that did him no good. In the meantime we asked if the soldiers wouldn’t just take it to which he made the rather astounding reply that he didn’t mind the soldiers taking it for nothing, but he did think it was nasty of us to only pay 11 shillings. Oh, well, such is Liberia.</p>
<p> After all hands had dried off a bit we continued on our weary way and at about two arrived at Gbai where we were to spend the night. This is also a rather large settlement, like Gbanga, with a small government compound in which we spent the night. Our dwelling, a house this time, was perched on a little hill so that it could overlook the extensive rice fields, and the forests beyond, while nearer, the town lay sleeping in the afternoon sun. As soon as all our supplies came in, I went hunting with no results. However, as I was wandering down a dark forest trail in boots, with an English shot gun on my arm, I suddenly met a native youth with only a breach cloth as a garment and in his hand a large bow and a few iron tipped arrows – the new and the old! That night the roof leaked and dripped on me, but I went to sleep just the same.</p>
<p> The next morning early we left on our way to Que Congo town – in the rain. But, come what may, we have left the road for a while. It was very pleasant indeed meandering – for the trail was crooked – thru the forest, over a floor of tangled roots and leaves – yes, very pleasant and cool. As we approached the St. John’s River we found more and more banana plantations encircling the towns in the form of a solid green wall. These are as thick as it is possible for them to get and about twenty yards thru. At noon we arrived at the last town before the river crossing, a town called Walla, or Yeh, or almost anything as far as I could make out. Here we caught up to Hal who had gone on ahead and stopped to “chop” some bananas before pushing on across the river. But as Dr. George did not show up soon we decided to push on.</p>
<p> The river crossing was quite an event. The St. Johns is quite a big river and evidently very deep judging from the amount of water which flows down it. And there is a very smoothly running current of thick brown water which does not make it too attractive to swim in. But it does look very pleasant to canoe down. We sat on the bank while one of the men swam across, or rather pulled himself along by a native “rope” which spans the river. Then he got one of the rafts and started back. The rafts are perfectly normal affairs about 6 ft. wide and 15 ft. long, upon which can be got some 5 or 6 men and their loads. These are then pulled across by the “Charon” who stands in the “bow” and pulls himself hand over hand along the rope. The only thing which keeps the raft from tearing down stream is the helmsman’s grip with his feet for he is the only link between the craft and the rope. This latter is merely huge Llianes – about an inch in diameter tied end to end. As there were only three boats we were quite long in getting across. And even after we were over I had to wait nearly half an hour for Shattuck.</p>
<p> Que Congo, our stop for the night, was about an hour away, and very pleasant indeed. The people, to be sure, were quite curious but still they continued their work after a while and I got a few rather pleasant pictures, such as rattan making, pounding rice in huge wooden mortars, white washing babies, etc. The people seemed to be much more ambitious than those with whom we had come in contact before. Hal and I both wanted to stay over a day to learn more about these Mano people but we were not given leave to do so and had to be content with noticing that many of them had the left ear perforated and that a few of the women had a more or less stylish form of coiffure. <Drawing of coiffure> Only not quite so extreme. I got some pictures of about a dozen or more girls pounding rice. Two girls work together with alternate strokes, but they always keep in time, not only with one another, but but with all those working near them so that there is a regular chug-chug-chug-chug of six or more wooden pestles being driven into the rice. And all the while that they do that they sing in chorus, not very musical and yet never displeasing or harsh. <Drawing of figure pounding rice></p>
<p> The next day was again thru “big bush” as the forests are called, and a pleasant day too, in spite of a few “hardships.” In the first place we got on the wrong trail, or so it seemed at that time, and didn’t discover it until noon. We were then told that we were on the best route but MUST spend the night there. As it was only twelve we didn’t like that. So we pushed on. Another hardship was wading, wading, wading, Whenever we have travelled my feet have been wet, so wet that unless we stayed in a place three my shoes would not dry out. The third was walking about 20 miles, and hot ones, with very little food. For pleasure on the other hand was this rather minor incident. As we were passing thru a particularly beautiful stretch of forest, where the trees rose straight and tall in columns to finally branch out and form dim green arches way above us. I lagged back away from the porters, not caring for the moment, whether they ran away or not. It was so peaceful, cool and pleasant. Dark shadows, intensified by restless patches of sunlight flickering and flitting back and forth. Long dim aisles between majestic columns and arches, and without effort one could imagine dim stained glass windows. And while I was thus loafing along, the porters began some carrying song up ahead. Now usually when they sing they sound like a pack of hounds baying on the trail of some fleeing quarry, but today the cool forest trunks muffled and modified it; the distance mellowed it; and all of a sudden I was in some majestic cathedral – La Notre Dame – with the chimes singing out from above to echo down thru dimly vaulted canyons lit by cool colored windows to mingle with the chanting below and then re-echo back. Certainly quite a far cry from my present surroundings. Another interesting sight was a native leopard trap built along the trail. The principle was a dead all placed in such a way that the unsuspecting animal as he walked along would be herded into this rather narrow compartment where he would be squashed flat. <Drawing of leopard trap> It was merely a pen which narrowed down in the middle. But the actual mechanics of the fall were interesting. The two diagrams will I hope show the principal of the thing. <Two drawings of leopard trap> That it was successful was shown by that fact that we bought a beautiful leopard skin in the next town which they claimed was the last victim of the trap.</p>
<p> At Ziche (German pronunciation) where we spent the night we ran across a very pleasant official who later asked for medical treatment (tho not for “galloping consumption” a complaint one person was supposed to suffer from). When Shattuck asked if he drank much, he ‘lowed that perhaps chronic alcoholism might be at the bottom of his troubles. He gave us some rather interesting material in the form of a story about a lion (he believed it) who fed on leopards and was only heard roaring just before some big man died. As far as I can make out it was some localized society which thought itself one better than the leopard societies common throughout Africa.</p>
<p> The next day, the longest march during our trip, we went from there to Tappi town, a distance of about 25 to 30 miles. And it was a bad day as far as getting into trouble was concerned. Hal and I started out first, leaving Strong and Shattuck engrossed in a medical patient who showed up with some enlarged glands which might have been interesting. And for about four hours everything went smoothly, tho slowly, - big cool forests – then a stretch of rather hot road which is being built from Tappi town to Grand Bassa – then more forest. Until eleven. Then we sat down in a town to wait for Strong and Shattuck who soon turned up. When we started on again, alas, we found that about seven of our porters had run away leaving us in a comparatively deserted place with no one to help us out. Just then, Lando, the cook, saw one miscreant sneak around a hut so, like hounds on a fresh scent, we put in pursuit. He dodged into an open door but the ferrets dragged him out. Then we started searching and were at least able to get under way again. At the next town we had almost the same thing happen – with this variation – when we arrived there were two musicians bent on amusing us, with rattle and rum amidst a crowd of admiring natives, most of whom had never seen a white man before. Now, as we searched for our missing carriers with fire in our eyes, a large portion of our audience melted away, leaving the two performers still too worked up and intent upon their business to notice what was going on. Not so our boys, however. For, with a howl, they yanked the drums from out of their hands, they striped them of their finery, and before the look of surprised bewilderment had had time to leave their faces, they were shoved under a waiting box and had joined our porter gang. At least we were amused. And at the next town we had to get women carriers – a state of affairs to which we later became accustomed. But to make a long story short, after barging thru thick mud, over a new road, etc., we at last came to Tappi town. I – who was at the head of the column – was 10 hours on the road. Hal, who brought in the last man, was 11. But we got to Tappi town in four days when we were told it was five – if that is an satisfaction. </p>
<p> Our stay in tappi lasted eventually for twelve rather dull days altho parts of the time were interesting. Tappi itself is quite a scattered place in 2 and ½ sections. One is the town with, so we are told, about 200 huts. My own guess would be not more than 100. And that is all the town has to offer. Nothing to see. Then there is a government compound with five or six large buildings in it and a few small ones. Our house was in the process of construction and will eventually be lived in by the quartermaster. I say it was in the process of construction – it had a roof, a floor and walls, but the walls had not been plastered. They were still in their latice-like stage. <Drawings of lattice-like walls> Eventually mud will be smacked on both inside and out and the house will be finished and hot! As it was it gave the idea of being a house and yet afforded ample ventilation. Also the roof DID NOT LEAK. The ½ section of Tappi consisted of the school compound in the middle of the government rice farm. This rice farm has been found the most satisfactory way of feeding the soldiers. Rather than have the natives bring so much they have their supply so many laborers at the proper times to plant, grow, harvest, prepare and store the grain. An amusing sidelight on Liberian school sis the following: Hal went up there one day and found the schoolmaster – a short jolly man <span style="text-decoration:underline;">in shoes</span> – in the process of tying up a bevy of damsels – not in shoes. Later the schoolmaster explained to us that a man had left his wife with the schoolmaster in pawn; that she had run away to the chief of the town who stated that he knew nothing of the matter and hadn’t seen the lady. As a return measure the schoolmaster had just swiped a bevy above mentioned as a ransom. And sure enough, the paw was returned. “Woman Palava”.</p>
<p> The first two days were spent recuperating, getting cleaned up and moving into our residence. The third was spent in looking around, and on the fourth, Hal and I went on an elephant hunt which was pleasant tho fruitless. We started out about six with five loads and our boys and walked about six miles thru really beautiful forests to a town called Sessu. On the way we saw some old elephant tracks where a herd had crossed the road a week before. But old or not, they were elephants and they were our first sight of them. When we got to Sessu we fixed up our dwelling in a kitchen and waited. We had sent out scouts, especially to bring in the hunter who had made the original report of elephants in that country. And in the meantime I shot a sun bird (new species to our collection), a barbit (another new species) and a white nosed monkey which we worked with until dark to keep us busy. Then in the morning we started our leaving Monio and Shaeffer to look after the camp. It was really delightful walking semi-silently thru the untouched forest, crossing clear little streams or swamps or big ridges with huge trees in which herds of red colobus (or Diana) or other monkeys, screamed and played. And when we saw traces of elephants made yesterday, only yesterday, I let my imagination go and pictured the whole scene – how he came along here, snipped off a small tree there, or scraped himself. I actually saw him (in my mind, alas) and later we found where he had run (the herd I mean) - and again where another herd had joined in. Really this was getting too exciting. Then as we were going along we heard a baboon (chimpanzee) drumming – how? “Quien sabe?” – but all admitted that it was a baboon. And so we spent the day, lunching beside a small clear stream amidst the jungle, and ever pursing this big track – as tho a long on end had been jumping about. But we were doomed to failure, and we never gained on them. But as they headed for the road we finally gave up and went off to look at some feeding grounds. And the worst of that was that they had evidently stayed over a whole day in that little strip between us and the road – an unexpected event – for they didn’t cross over till that night. But that is hunter’s luck. When we got back Hal and I went swimming and I had the pleasure of cutting my good which laid me up for the next day while Hal went out alone. Again no luck but a good time. Then back to Tappi town – shooting a couple of birds, a fly catcher (new species) and a green pigeon which I skinned in the afternoon.</p>
<p> The next day Strong and Shattuck went over to Sauro, on the French border, while Hal and I sat around and amused ourselves writing diaries and watching the rice pounding. Here, as I have said, they were preparing government rice just outside our dwelling – about 30 pounders – 4 or 5 winnowing – a dozen or more stamping on the heads of grain to free the stalks, etc. This lasted from six A.M. till after dark in the evening. And always with a chorus. On the third day I went hunting guinea fowl in the early morning with some success but at eleven I was back to normal, after only a small temperature 103°. And that is the last of my fevers to date – I have knocked on wood.</p>
<p> Two days later I went over to Zugi’s town with Strong and Shattuck where they did some medical work while I took pictures of the patients all in all we were very successful. Then we let for Sino.</p>
<p> While we were in Tappi the District Commissioner had come thru and had promised us all kinds of porters for the time of departure. But when he left he had taken 200 – all the available men –with him, leaving the place barren. In consequence we were hard pressed for carriers. So on the morning of our start we were rather worried. The acting assistant D.C., of course, said not to worry, that he would supply the necessaries, but even he suggested that we might send our men down to the town to help round up victims. Now, a little later, Hal and I saw some men with empty baskets coming up but, when we tried to corral them, they ran away, which annoyed us, and we stopped them. Just then a mandingo gentleman to whom we had been supplying free advice and medicine ran out and ordered the people on – his people who weren’t to carry for us – why not? – Because! We told him of our letters from the government authorizing all chiefs and headmen to supply porters but he politely said “To Hell with the Government.” He also said, “Hit me, Kill me,” etc., knowing full well that we were tempted to do so and that in Liberia, if a white hits a black, there is the devil to pay. Still we didn’t, but eventually brought him and his people back. He then started some rather Bolshevik talk about we don’t want the white man – you’re all fools to work for the white man, etc., etc. He called our head steward a fool, - “You’re a fool,” said Burma, “Fool Palava.” But we eventually got away with about 40 men and 20 women. Then the acting assistant D.C. told us that we had sinned, etc., and that the Mandingo chief had registered a complaint against us, etc., to which we replied that we were sorry that it was so late, and that we must hurry, goodbye! Still the chap won out for he sent one of his men ahead who succeeded in getting seven men to run away in short order.</p>
<p> Well we eventually got going. The first part of the day was spent in passing thru one small town after another, along an open and hot road, but after two hours we got once more into the bush, and this time with a vengeance. Five hours before we struck the next town, and that was a deserted half-town. We deliberated for a while and decided to push on to Granh, our objective, if possible. But darkness caught us in the bush and as the going was so muddy we were forced to stop at the next village. Even at at that, Hal, who was again in the rear, did not get in until seven. The town was deserted and partially decayed, but with our 60 odd porters of both sexes we formed quite a jolly little party with all the houses occupied and fires glittering here and there with natives squatting about and cooking the rice which we had distributed. We slept in a regular mud hut. </p>
<p> The next day was Shattuck’s birthday (Oct. 12) so we only went for an hour to Granh where we decided to rest up. This, however, was not done until we had palava’d long and furiously with the head man. Would his men stay? Yes. Because there were no other carriers in town it was quite important that we keep our mits on what we had. And if they were going to run away – well we would push on immediately, and get another day out of them. But they promised to stay. “Porter Palava.” For the rest of the day we sat in idleness reading and writing and otherwise amusing ourselves. The only event of interest was a thunderstorm which rained like a cloudburst until there was a couple of inches of water on the ground with a river wherever there was a slope. As quickly as it came it went, and the heat descended once more. When we came to distribute rice in the evening only 18 of our porters were left – the rest had run away!</p>
<p> The next day – 15 porters left!! – we were able to pick up some women carriers and started off again on our travels – 6 hours to the next town thru “big bush”. It was very pleasant going and quite cool with no casualties in our porter list to speak of, only two or three who were replaced from extras in our outfit. This brought us to Weea town where we decided to spend the night as there was no town in sight for another long period. And Weea, altho deserted, was quite attractive. A wild delapidated little town in a big clear<span style="text-decoration:line-through;">e</span>ing in which a few tall trees stood out in lovely splendor, spreading out their feathery branches in contempt for the other more paltry members of their group who lived in such close packed surroundings. But, coming down to the edge of the clearing, was the tall forest like a wall. We took our baths, put on clean clothes and in the evening sat beneath a mellow moon smoking our pipes – real peace – real comfort.</p>
<p> The next morning we pushed on for what proved to be the toughest day of the whole trip. In the first place we didn’t have enough porters to go around which meant that we had to call on all our boys – cook included – to carry. This meant that cameras must be tied into a single load and that we must carry all our own paraphernalia, such as guns, canteens, etc. Then within ten minutes three loads were dropped which caused a little more juggling, Still we got off. But as we progressed we got nearer to the Cess River, and as we approached we met more and more streams, vines, thorns and other miserable things which seem to be continually saying, “Hold on there, don’t hurry thru so fast.” And, when we didn’t obey, they merely looped themselves around our necks or our feet and agued with us. Also, the women porters are very poor at carrying loads across logs which necessitates helping them and carrying them across, laying them dow and going back for another (I am talking of loads now – not the porters). So it was that we finally came to the River Cess, - a big brown rushing torrent which roared in a subdued way. That was at nine A.M. We followed down stream all day until dark – tho our mileage wouldn’t show it. From nine until five we must have crossed at least 30 or 40 small streams which flowed across our path into the river. Each of these had steep banks and deep still water. And few had logs across them, altho some boasted of thin trembly poles which hardly bore up under the strain and which required all the skill of a tightrope walker to cross. Some were waded to be sure and others were crossed thru the trees, a laborious, even if unusual, task. And all of them took a long time! Every now and then I worked up ahead of the whole outfit to see how they were getting on and occasionally I would sit down on some root or log and count them as they came by. On one of these occasions I slowly succumbed to the influence of the muffled roar of the river, the drone of the cicadas and the shadows of the forest, taking out my notebook and writing the following which I will send on as an example of the enfeebling effect to the tropics on one’s mind.</p>
<p> I am sitting by a river, - a big muddy brown torrent which roars beside me – on a majestic root of an equally majestic tree. And all about me are slender but tall trees, and vines which rise up, up, up to leap out into a delicate green ceiling which permits only little elusive patches of sunlight to dash thru and light up the dead leaves of the forest floor. Locust drone in chorus. First one getting the rust out of his wings in rasping clicks before bursting forth in full blast, to be followed by another and another until the river’s roar becomes but a murmur by comparison. And then suddenly they cease together, and as the silence shuts in, the river comes back to life. A butterfly jerkily flits from one sunlit patch to another, alternately disappearing in the shadows. A hornbill passes overhead on creaking wings to sail by, the wind rushing thru his feathers. Then I am alone again with only the rolling waters and the breathless trees awaiting some caressing breeze, sitting on a majestic root of an equally majestic tree.</p>
<p> Later we came to a stream thru which we were forced to wade – up to our necks literally – or to be more exact, half way between my chin and mouth. I got quite wet! To facilitate matters and speed up the crossing, I took off my shirt for it didn’t do me any good, and carried some 20 loads across on my head, including a 2 man trunk which weighed about 100 pounds. Then, and this is the climax, I swam two young damsels across on my back as they could not swim and the water was too deep. Coolidge, with just his head out of water beside me, wept, for he didn’t have his camera! </p>
<p> That night we slept in the bush, without tents or shelter of any kind. In fact it was dark before we started to clear the ground. We just set up our beds, hung our mosquito nets above them, and got out our raincoats. It was pitchy black for the moon had not yet risen and thru the tree trunks little wee fires flickered like fireflies around us. Our own camp was even wallowed up by blackness. The lanterns’ lights making some giant bole stand out alone from the unknown shadow behind. A when we blew them out, the whole ground lighted up with phosphorescence, while our white mosquito nets loomed up vaguely as ghosts about us. </p>
<p> The next day we crossed the river in a very rickety raft with a capacity for five passengers (crew included) with no luggage and this had to be paddled. However, I didn’t wait for the luggage but pushed on about seven miles to a fairly big town where I picked up 40 porters “one time” (at once) and headed back to the river. When I got back at about two I found them already set up in a small half town True and they decided to stay. So we sent off 40 loads which were not needed for the night and settled down. It was a very clean little town in the middle of the forest with a hill – yes, actually a hill, - to form a background on one side. Our bunks were placed under the eaves of the already occupied houses where we hoped to keep dry – not an inspiring accommodation but adequate. Later we rather regretted it for the inmates, due either to the mosquitoes, or our advent, or both, made much palava all night and we hardly slept. However before we went to bed we saw the moon rise above the giant trees to cast its light on the slumbering village. </p>
<p> The next day we did the seven miles to the next town Chekomma. On the way we had to go over quite a high ridge which added a change from the monotonously flat going which we have had in the past. And it was pleasant to clamber over tangled rocks even if they were few.</p>
<p> Chekomma itself has very little to offer. And as I have sent you a drawing of it which <span style="text-decoration:underline;">does</span> give an idea of the place, I am not going to describe it. We stayed over here a day recuperating from some rather hard going, doing some intensive medical work and catching up on our diaries. Actually, however, we did little of interest and prepared for our next lap – the last big jump before reaching Sino and civilization.</p>
<p> As an auspicious opener – the next morning brought no porters altho the two headmen of the town promised “plenty plenty”. Even the headmen themselves didn’t come until late, with plenty of palava about why they couldn’t get carriers. They had a dozen or so, no more. We decided we had best get busy thereupon and in the next half hour got about 20, and the rest had to be women again. Now this didn’t appeal to us because we wanted to get a crew which would take us to Sordya and then two or three days on, thru the trackless forest into Kulu country and people again. However as they all said “plenty of men at Sordya”, we decided we had best take what we could get and started. Now they had told us that Sordya was far-far and that if we started (at sunrise) “soon morning” we would get there when sun was “so” (sunset). As it was 8.30 when we got underway we were doubtful where we would sleep and, in consequence, we were very surprised to arrive at about 12.30 and still further surprised to find it deserted entirely except for one man. Great! We also discovered that our porters were rather anxious to leave us flat and return home (without pay) so we kept our eye on them pretty carefully and prevented them from running away. In the evening we went as far as to organize shifts to guard the men, and in that way held them all, but to no avail. That night it rained and, as usual, the leaks were over my bed.</p>
<p> Next morning we gave them all rice at about four so that they would be ready to go on a full stomach at about seven. Then we ate, packed and assigned the loads. But when we told them to start they complained that they had not yet eaten. Something funny. We told them that we would bring it along cooked and they could have it when we stopped in the middle of the morning. But, off we must go now. “Chop palava”. And off they went but into the bush – that is. Five of them did before ten minutes were up! That was distinctly awkward and I stopped the whole parade and told my boys to guard them with guns only to find that tow of the women had run in the bunch behind me. There is nothing to do but put the rascally headman under the boxes. But, before we did that, we roped the male population together in groups of twos and threes to make running away a bit more difficult. I also divided my gang of 18 men into three parts of six, putting one of the boys in front to keep them from going too fast and getting out of sight, another boy behind the first, and second groups while I brought up the rear. So we travelled and none of them ran away. With those behind, however, things did not go so well as I soon found out.</p>
<p> At about 10:30 I thought I would stop in a small clearing made by a blowdown on the bank of a stream and wait for information from the rear. And I soon got it. Only about 10 carriers left – 28 run away. I picked up my 18 worthy henchmen and started back to the assistance and we had to go a long long way to get to the first box dropped. One of the headmen had been given about ten women to look after but we did not see him or his charges again although they were honest enough to leave the loads in the trail. Likewise with another headman. But just then fortune smiled for a moment. We sent out emissaries from Sordya the night before to Coe town in search of porters, the washman to talk and Colbar with a rifle to add emphasis. At just that minute they arrived with 18, 10 men, 6 women and 2 boys. So with 36 people we picked up the loads and brought them up to the front ranks. After a short palava we picked up all but 10 loads and pushed on for another hour and half to where we found a favorable camp site Here we stopped, sending ten men back to bring in the loads left behind.</p>
<p> In the meantime we pitched camp, lashed and fed the porters, and Hal and I swam in the nearby stream. A very pleasant climax to the day. Again we were under the stars without the slightest shelter, and again the ground glowed at night with phosphorescence.</p>
<p> In the morning, after breakfast, the remains of our Chekomma porters ran away, except two, leaving us only the 18 Coe town people. Well, there was only one thing to do – take the minimum requirements and beat it for Kulu country where we could get a fresh porter gang to go back into the bush to get the remainder of our supplies. So we loaded up our steward boys, cook, etc., the 18 Coe towners and the two remnants from Chekomma and started. And 20 minutes later the last two mentioned checked out and we were clear of the lot. We had to abandon a load of rice and convert a two-man load into one, but what is that?</p>
<p> And so for that and the next three days we were alone with no more adieu, comparatively. That noon the porters did threaten to run away if we went farther, but we told them that they would have to go farther and what’s more they just jolly well couldn’t run away. That night, to make sure, we gave them some quinine with the idle threat that, if they beat it, woe to them, and at the same time gave Burma a pill, saying that if he didn’t play fair, he would pass on. My suggestion, Burma’s execution, my only contribution to science so far. Be it as it may, they didn’t run and we had no more palava’s. And as I said before for three days we passed thru interminable big bush – swamps, ridges, and more swamps. I tore my trousers. We saw many elephant tracks. And we saw no game. And how we did walk. It really was quite jolly and I could not but think of how perhaps at some past time the slave traders had passed over the same trail – only instead of singing porters they probably silently – or with oaths – escorted sullenly surprised blacks destined for servitude in America, but how could they have known?</p>
<p> On the afternoon of the fourth day in the bush we came to the Sanguin river and villages. As we came to the bank some natives showed up on the far side and after a little conversation they came over in a big canoe and started to transport our goods across the river. I went across with the first load and took some rather poor pictures of the people as they came across. It was sprinkling anyway. Then, when everything was across, we wandered up to the town. It was quite a change from what we had become accustomed to and for the better. The houses, for example, were made with mat walls. The roofs had a Japanese air to them. <Drawing of house on stilts with “Japanese air”> The buildings were also arranged along a “main street”, giving a feeling of order and design. The mat walls, too had a certain variety of pattern which added to the charm of the place.</p>
<p> We had a very quiet time for the next four days, largely because of the fact that we had left most of our scientific outfit behind. I could not develop pictures, nor did I have any skinning materials, and worse, I only had a limited supply of films. However, we were successful in amusing ourselves. We were living in a rather large house, one wall of which we had removed that we might get better ventilation. It was quite comfortable, and, as the floor was some three to four feet above the ground, comparatively clean. And it was fairly cool. We also were once more in the land of abundance, where food was not only plentiful, but varied – squash, pumpkin, eddo, pawpaw, bananas, chicken, rice, sweet potatoes, all in abundance with eddo leaves, cassava leaves and other things for greens. So we had no complaints to make.</p>
<p> The first day was spent in attempted cleanliness which included cutting off my moustache – I mean my attempted moustache (excuse me) and brushing my hair which by now was very long over the ears and almost manageable on top. We also go our our clothes, aired them and had the soiled ones washed, etc. The second day was spent in going over to Bashman’s town about an hour away and palavaing with the Paramount chief to no avail except we got some unusually good bananas from him. On the way home I shot a squirrel which I skinned in the afternoon. While I was at Bashman’s town I saw a hawk which the chief wanted, so, after deliberation, I stalked the thing, took careful aim, and Bang, he flew. The natives thought it was an excellent joke – why, I can’t understand. On the third day Hal and I took a boat up stream on the river but the current was more than our boys could manage and we were forced to return. Then we tried Baboon hunting with equally successful results altho we did have a good time chatting with our backs against a big root. When we returned to town, there was a tremendous wailing which told us that a lady who had got a severe infection after child birth had died. After all we told them she would and that we had none of the necessary implements and medicines at hand. However, I am sorry that we didn’t, for the rest of our stay there was a constant weeping and gnashing of teeth which apparently never ceased. When the old mourners were worn out, new came into town to take their places. One old lady, evidently blind, came bawling in on the back of a huge stalwart black of stolid expression. The rig was extremely neat and looked very efficient for use in first aid. <Drawing of woman in rig on back of man> By the way, all the “rope” used for making hump lines is made by stripping young saplings of their bark, trees about 1 ½” in diameter, yielding a flat strip of bark about 2” wide. Very neat. But to return to our mourners – when on the next day our porters returned from the bush they immediately rushed in to have a few good bellows before reporting to us. We could count the loads by the new voices.</p>
<p> In the afternoon, while all this was going on, Strong and Shattuck went over to call on the P.C. while Hal and I feebly wrote in our diaries and siesta’d perhaps a bit more vigorously. At any rate, we accomplished little but enjoyed much.</p>
<p> Next morning, Strong and Shattuck checked out with all loads, leaving Coolidge and me to reship our boxes which we expected to come out of the bush. They were going to do medical work. As for us, it was a signal for complete indolence and much conversation until two when the loads came in and we left Towya to the fates, arriving at Bashman town at about five, where we paid off the men and had supper. That evening the interpreter came round and, having said that his brother was Paramount chief and a crook while he was honest and an enemy of Liberia – How about a smoke? – meaning, how about our giving him a head of tobacco. This is a common trait among all those in favor in this country. And later we had a drum serenade – 1:00 to be exact-with many drums, one about 5 ft. long. Personally it may be annoying, but it is native art at its best and I can’t keep from getting in tune with it and having the same sensations which a Boston deb. Gets out of Billy Lozey’s orchestra, if that is the right way to spell that gentleman’s name. So despite the hushed curses of most of our party and the harsh language of some (which brought it to a close finally). I was rather disappointed when they drifted away into obscurity.</p>
<p> Next morning we had the damnedest time getting under way that we have had yet. In the first place the P.C. seriously showed his objections to the Coe town carriers by dragging one of their ladies around the lot in a conscientious endeavor to show that she was not wanted. This specific demonstration promptly annoyed her escorts and they decided that the coast Krus were no good and home was the best place after all. So – with seeing paus, I mean Sino, also the chief’s son, the headman was absolutely useless, in fact he probably caused us an unusual amount of trouble. But, in Liberia, you know, After throwing out the Coe town lot there were not enough men and we refused children. I finally had to drag two innocent men who were hiding in the chief’s house. And so we left. </p>
<p> Now every one told us that we could not make Sino in less than four days (at a shilling per person per day) except one man who stuck to his guns at three. We did it in two. But I am ahead of my story. After passing thru a couple of towns we again passed into big bush in which we could hear baboon, but, of course, never see them, and in which we ran across a few elephant tracks. Then, at noon, we passed into towns again.</p>
<p> In order to keep our useless porter gang together and from stopping so early we had to herd them thru several towns without a rest until they got sick of us, and decided to carry us to our objective, Paidibo, which we reached at 3:00. This breach of Eru etiquette – the fact that they had carried six hours instead of three – was so great that half of them ran away that night after getting free rice.</p>
<p> Paidibo was a small town with very little in hotel accommodations, but, by tearing down three walls (we get more ambitious as we progress), we had quite a cool residence. But outside of “dashing” away all trade gin and most of the tobacco to an affable official who wisely figured that it was much easier to be “dashed” for saying that we were in sight of the coast then for saying we were a week off, there was little of interest. The official, by the way, said that we could go to Sino and return in a day – I suspect he meant 24 hours. </p>
<p> Well, we did get to Sino at four P.M. after a day which would have been sleeting at home – a cold, drizzling wind-driven rain which kept us soaked and dripping all day. But get there we did, and with a certain satisfaction, of having maltreated the tropics and got away with it. And there we paid off our porters – and we finished with Safari until the dim future of the upper Congo. When we first arrived we called on the Superintendent of the place who gave us a whole house into which we bundled our many boxes and hastily put on dry things. Shortly afterwards Mr. Van Hensden, the head agent of the Deutsche Oest Afrika Co., invited us to dinner but, as our chop was already on the fire, and as Hal had a slight chill, we declined his invitation. However, I went over after dinner and for the first time since leaving the Du talked with a white man. I found that Tunney had beaten Dempsey, that Lacoste had beaten Tilden, etc. Same old stuff. Otherwise, no news. But they were extremely pleasant.</p>
<p> Sino is a very pleasant, tho rural, spot which looks quite large after three months in the interior. It boasts of three “white” stores. But, after a couple of days, its beauty wanes and it stands out in its true light. A small village of rather dilapidated houses situated on a point. And, of course, there is absolutely no connection with the world by any means other than boats. Even the steamers are but two each way a month and of course none were due for ten days. The main navigation therefore was in open whale boats, but more of that. <Drawing of Sino town></p>
<p> We stayed in Sino four days hoping that the wind would shift and let us sail to Cape Palmas which we wanted to see very much indeed. In the meantime we took a few pictures, developed 11 dozen in two nights, dined with the Dutchmen en masse and swam. This latter was the source of a rather amusing incident.</p>
<p> Having seen natives in swimming a la nude as it were, we decided why not – and we did. Well, you just can’t keep the damsels away from good looking, nay, handsome gents – and they crowded, I mean one or two came down to watch u s whom I may thankfully say we ignored. But, on the third day of our stay, a portly colored gentleman – in Liberia we may safely assume all colored men to be gentlemen – came to call on us. We tried to claim other more pressing engagements but no he must see us, and he did. With serious mien and in dignified words he explained to us that we were shocking <span style="text-decoration:underline;">the</span> people of Sino. “Now,” he continued “You wouldn’t want such a great institution as Firestones to be cast from Liberia just because you swam in the ocean without bathing suits.” We protested that he was too hard on us and that they weren’t ladies. “Oh, I don’t mean them”, he said, “they don’t count. It is the American Liberians.” We breathed something about spy glasses and far-sightedness and then tacitly hoped that such great people as the Liberians would be able to ignore such petty miscreants as we in order to favor the great American dollar. Seeing that he was not quite getting away with it, he shifted his tactics to “In America – oh, yes, I have been there - they don’t do such things,” with the afterthought, “except at Coney Island.” We agreed and he shifted the conversation from morals to our potential discoveries of gold. This, too, was unfortunate because we had to admit we hadn’t looked for any, seen any, nor would we have recognized it if we had. The gentleman’s name was Mr. Ross and we found out from van Hensden that he had been a guest – “a free guest” – of the United States: - as that gentleman put it, - in Sing Sing. Outside of having been Vice President of Liberia, of having started a rebellion, and of being “wanted” in several places should he leave his native shore, he was a man of little consequence.</p>
<p> It was a Monday that we left Sino, in the pouring rain. But not on foot. I spoke of surf boats a moment ago. These surf boats are double ended life boats- about 30 ft. long – which are designed primarily to row with 8-10 long sweeps. The oarsmen sit on benches, two to a bench, which rather cuts up the interior. There is no cabin, no comfortable seat, in fact, no comfortable anything about them except that they are able. In these they erect a mast, merely a log and a sail, best described by this drawing. <Drawing of boat> The gaff is another log and the halyards consist of a rope tied on the gaff and passed thru a hole in the mast with no pully. This now serves also as a stay, a great saving in time and trouble, as well as rope. And it was in one of these crafts that we slipped away from the dutchman’s dock, passed the customs officer, tilted back in a chair, down the river and out across the bar to sea. All in a heavy rain storm. Now the boat was only 30 ft. long and besides our 60 boxes “all packed with care with his name printed clearly on each” we had our four selves, our five boys and a crew of fifteen hardlooking blacks fit for any pirate crew. Needless to say, we were crowded. </p>
<p> Then the rain stopped and the sun shone “but all averred I’d killed the bird that made the breeze to blow” so we slatted from 7 to 11 waiting for something to happen. I will admit the crew rowed a bit but they were so afraid of exerting themselves that we didn’t go far. Then the breeze picked up and we started to slip merrily on our way to go bounding over the waves. We all began to feel seasick – but no casualties. About five o’clock as the crew was cooking rice in a tin can on a sand box stove we had some water boiled and made tea and soup. Darkness came and with it rain, so we donned our raincoats and lay down on our odds and ends of baggage to sleep. It was a dark night, cloudy, with a few starry patches shining thru. And the water was aglow with phosphorescence, so that we could sail freely between illuminated rocks where the surf dashed against them. It was quite a sight. And as I was lying on my back with my pipe in my teeth, the crew started to sing from out of the darkness of the bow, at first, native songs, until suddenly, “Adeste Fidelis” in parts. Well, I have been startled before I will be again, but I don’t be quite so surprised very soon! </p>
<p> That night we opened our umbrellas to keep the rain from running down our ears. But we did sleep despite the fact that you can’t flatten the cover of a tin trunk by sleeping on it.</p>
<p> Came the dawn – Just as the faint light was appearing in the east we rounded the point at Grand Bassa and as we slowly approached the beach black forms came gliding over the heavy swell – black crawling things which silently passed us, the fishing dugouts putting forth to sea. We landed on the beach and were carried thru the surf on our crew’s shoulders just as the sun was rising. Immediately we got a fire going and, as Sando was cooking, went for a very refreshing swim down the beach a ways. Then we returned and had breakfast. Afterwards, while Strong and Shattuck shaved, Hal and I went forth to call on anybody worth calling on. As it happened we ran across the Elder Dempster people who were so nice to us that we got them to invite Strong and Shattuck up which they did. And so we spent a very pleasant morning. At two we sailed away again – a repetition of the day before except at one we anchored off the bar at Monrovia in time to get a beautiful thunderstorm. It was so doggone wet that the four of us sat huddled in the stern – umbrellas set for the rest of the night. The crew in the meanwhile had spread the sail and crawled under it. I will leave the picture to your imagination. And as it dawned again, the same creepy crawly things came floating out by us as we manned the oars and slipped across the bar into Monrovia – nearly four months to a day since we landed. </p>
<p> And that really finishes my story.</p>
<p> But there are a few additions: As soon as we got in we stopped at Capt. Beard’s where we got some tea and toast before passing on to the Willises. Here we were again welcomed and took up much the same life as before. The other party returned from their travels in a couple of days and we had to swap stories with them. In the meantime we packed.</p>
<p> Now it so happened that there is a Mr. Cheek staying at the Willis’ , connected with Firestones and the father of one M.A.Cheek Jr. who captained the 1925-1926 football team. And, as he is interested in hunting, he offered to take Shattuck and Coolidge out some morning. And it also happened that there had been several robberies in the house and that, on the night before the hunting trip started, Mr. Cheek was successfully divested of many belongings. It was not surprising therefore that when Shattuck saw Cheek in a scuffle with a negro that he should put two and two together and rush to the assistance – also remember that it is 5:30 A.M. The actual facts, of course, happened to be that the chauffeur was late and was fresh to Cheek. However, there was a witness and when they returned from hunting there was a cry for vengeance. In Liberia they have a system whereby the official salaries are raised if a white man so much as says boo to a black. This was a great opportunity and amidst discourteous crys from the onlookers Shattuck was arrested in his room (without a warrant) and was led off on foot – a car having been refused by a police – to the court house. Strong accompanied him amidst jeers. Later Cheek was escorted to the jail in similar fashion. Well, feeling ran high but the President was upset and many thought that the “Palava finished” when suddenly they were tried, fined the maximum and then the judge, politely saying that it was at his discretion to double it, did so neatly and for all. Even Shattuck was annoyed and thought it a bit thick. Cables flew to Washington. The President returned the fines but what will come of it remains to be seen. At least there was a hornets’ nest stirred up at one time – and parts of it were very funny. </p>
<p> Shortly afterwards we said goodbye to Allen. I am not going to tell you now much I admire, respect and love him but I think I can safely say that he was meant more to each of us than any other member of the party. Certainly this is true as far as I am concerned, and my only hesitation is that it would take a book to express my feelings. Some day, if I have time, I will write a letter on that subject alone. He has a wonderful sense of humor in the bargain. By all means get to know him and well – for he is shy unobtrusive.</p>
<p> After he left there has been little of excitement. I have collected some 16 birds; we have botanize; made medical surveys; and I have photographed the Mt. Barclay plantation for young Mr. Firestone who is out here. But it has been merely a case of waiting till this boat, already eleven days late, should come and carry us away.</p>
<p> And so at last on the 21<sup>st</sup> of November, four months and two weeks after our arrival we rowed out of the harbor for the last time.</p>
<p> Since then we have visited Principe and San Thome, two Portuguese islands. We have stopped at Tibuville, Port Gentil, Landana, Cabinda, and have but just now left Landana. Tomorrow we will get to Boma, and Friday Matadi. But as we will have to pack, visit officials and rush, I will close this now. Maybe soon, I will write you some notes on Liberia. </p>
<p>On board the S. S. Wolfream</p>
<p>Finished December 2, 1926</p>
<p> At 1:50 A.M.</p>
<p> P.S. This is an unusually comfortable cargo boat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
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VAD2036-U-00095H
Title
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Dearest Family, No. 8
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Date
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September 12, 1926 - December 2, 1926
Coverage
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Gbai, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Kpaai, Bong County, Liberia
Atlantic Ocean, S.S. Wolfram
Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Sangwin River, Liberia
Area now known as: Sehnkwehn River, Liberia
Gbanga, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Gbarnga, Bong County, Liberia
Que Congo, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Que Congo/Quellah Gar Town (Kpwessi), Nimba County, Liberia
Ziche, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Nimba County, Liberia
Tappi Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Tapeta, Nimba County, Liberia
Zugas Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Nimba County, Liberia
Granh, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Garhn, Nimba County, Liberia
Chekomma, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Sinoe County, Liberia
Sordya, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Sinoe County, Liberia
Paidibo, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Sinoe County, Liberia
Sinoe Town, Sinoe County, Liberia
Area now known as: Greenville, Sinoe County, Liberia
Grand Bassa, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Area now known as: Buchanan, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Bashman Town, Sinoe County, Liberia
Area now known as: Bestman Town, Sinoe County, Liberia
St. John River, Liberia
Cess River, River Cess District, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Area now known as: Cestos River, Rivercess County, Liberia
Birds
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Houses
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Politics &government
Rice
Rivers
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-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/0b0b9b6697ef2aec86ca154da1bc4ac6.pdf
75fe7054efafc12293726669c89fdeec
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/2922c0674a39e6f793f89645b47e0e30.doc
7b1b241565cbfc8de19627187bc5dae4
Historical Documents
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Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
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<p>No. 7</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Monrovia, Liberia</p>
<p>November 10, 1926</p>
<p>(Preliminary Report)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dearest Family; -</p>
<p> My last letter started with an apology for expected brevity and then dragged on indefinitely. This one, however will not commit that same sin – I shall be brief. The reason for this is as follows: -</p>
<p> I have been very busy packing in the last few days and seeing the other members of the Expedition, comparing notes on things seen and deeds accomplished and in general making up for the social gap in our party between Sept. 24<sup>th</sup> and November 5<sup>th</sup>.</p>
<p> Now I feel that it is impossible to write either an accurate or a legible account of the last month and a half in a short time but as I have not written for so long and Dr. Allen is going to bring this with him I cannot hold back. Still this is not for information as much as it is to let you know that being far from home does not impair one’s memory or one’s thoughts of home. As soon as I have time to really write I will give you a more or less detailed account of my experiences since you last heard from me as well as a resume of my impressions of Liberia, the Tropics, and life in general, and it will take time.</p>
<p> Now, first, I will answer some questions and doubts which are most frequent in the letters: - </p>
<p> 1<sup>st</sup> – It is not as hot as you imagine. In the interior it averaged between 72 – 82° And at one time dropped into the 60s. And it was cool enough every evening to pull a blanket over one before morning. Sometimes we put on a sweater in the evening, too. The rains had also ceased and the humidity was in consequence much less. On the coast it goes up to 85 or so and is more muggy. But it is all quite liveable – we are used to it and it is never extreme as we have it in Boston. (103° In the shade in one letter.) We don’t have heat prostrations. </p>
<p> 2<sup>nd</sup> – The flys are practically absent. Mosquitoes are noiseless and do not poison . They also stick close to the floor (or ground) so that mosquito boots give sufficient protection. Headnets and gloves are there for a waste of space and money. The tsetse flies also are local and I have only been bitten twice. Horse flies (tabanis) are at times a nuisance but it is very gratifying to cut off their heads and see them fly away – a morbid pleasure.</p>
<p> 3<sup>rd</sup> – Our food is a case of not too wisely but too well. Chicken and race from the staples to be got from the country. (The natives eat rice and palm oil and cassava. This is embellished by sweet potato, squash, and pumpkin, Edo, bananas, oranges (few at this season, but good), limes (now nearly gone), plantains – and edo leaves or cassava leaves as spinach. Occasionally a pawpaw or a pineapple. To this collection of natural foods we have canned meats, evaporated fruits, jams, butter in tins, cheese, milk, bacon, (ah, yes, eggs, according to the locality – and occasionally a goat). So you can see that we eat in style – even to plum pudding with a cream sauce – or macaroni and cheese.</p>
<p> 4<sup>th</sup> – Our hardships have been restricted to a super-abundance of energy possessed by R. P. Strong, which keeps us busy either working or traveling (with an accent on the latter) from morning to night. Our beds are comfortable. We have been blessed with moonlight nights when forced to camp after dark in the forest, without any shelter whatsoever (twice) and we have been fortunate in getting our wants gratified. </p>
<p> 5<sup>th</sup> – My health has been excellent and my digestion of the best. My sleep has been long and sound and I am in first-class condition. Also, we have had no alcohol on our trip so Mother need not be nervous about my going to the alcoholic dogs as she implied or rather warned in one letter. There are likewise no aeroplanes so the abundance of newspaper clippings about a London-Paris accident have proved unnecessary.</p>
<p> I hope that I have somewhat allayed the fear that I am treading thru perilous jungle with the steaming mists rising from tangled roots and vines, while pythons and cobras loop down from lofty branches to fell me should I not guard myself carefully at all times. And I am not constantly brushing the myriads of infected flies from out my eyes as I take careful aim at the charging elephant or bush cow. No, I haven’t even seen one – nor even smaller animals outside of monkeys and a few deer (duiker or antelope). So there you have t – I have spoiled the illusion and glory of this marvelous journey – but I hope that I have left a more peaceful frame of mind in its place. I don’t like to travel under false colors.</p>
<p> But Dr. Allen is going to bring this letter home or mail it in England as he sees fit and if you get him to come to dinner immediately you will have not only the latest news but also the pleasure of getting it first hand from one of the most loveable men I have ever met or hope to meet. But I need pages to write about him and I must admit that I will have an unusually severe attack of homesickness when he leaves tomorrow. In fact, I have not written all day or all evening until he went to bed so as to see as much of him as possible before he is gone for good. Do ask him in and always keep in mind that he knows almost any nonsense book, or poem particularly, and in his quiet way can quote absolutely appropriate passages from them, or from Shakespeare, or the Bible (etc., etc.) at will. And his ability to change a word to better fit the occasion is supreme. See as much of him as you can – you will find that it is worth it.</p>
<p> To briefly outline our trip, we went as follows;-</p>
<p> We split into two parties at Gbanga two days after I sent my last letter – Drs. Strong, Shattuck, Hal and I going to the west and south – the rest going to the north and east. Our party travelled fast and furious to Gbai (a la Greek), Que Congo, Zicher (German) and Tappi – 4 days. At Tappi we spent (Hal and I did) four days elephant hunting to our great enjoyment but with no luck. We did see fresh tracks, however. I also took a day’s medical photography trip. I also spent one day in bed with a single malarial chill, hot period, sweat, and then normal – 3 hours. And, I collected five birds, four of which proved new to the collection.</p>
<p> Then for eighteen days we travelled steadily with only occasional lay-off to Sino (or Greenville). On the way we crossed the Cess River on a raft and at one time spent four days travelling thru high forest without a village. We should have done it in three but our porters ran away (they thought that we would forget to pay them) leaving only eighteen of their number behind. We made our own boys carry and with them and the 18 got our immediate needs out of the “bush”. It took four days to send men in and back with the rest of the loads. Two days later we got to Sino and after the customary delay sailed for a day and a night in our open surf boat with all our boxes and a black Kru crew to (Grand) Bassa where we landed between dawn and sunrise for breakfast and an early lunch. Then from noon to the same time we sailed to Monrovia. Of course we got there earlier and anchored in the pouring rain from 1 – 4:30 Then we ran the bar and went into the town. But it was quite an experience. One of the best and will be written into a chapter in my real letter entitled “Cruising the West African Coast in an Open Surf Boat” and “Dodging phosphorescent covered rocks as we cruised the shore at night” can be a paragraph heading. It was quite delightful tho somewhat uncomfortable.</p>
<p> And see, that brings us back to Monrovia where we landed so fresh four months ago, so unused and green at it all, so willing to see vague, mysterious, tropical wonders – and now, so matter of fact and blasé. Oh, well, times have changed and I am planning on a trip from Rangoon up the Salpeen River to the Sjan Border (Shan) and down thru Siam to Bangkok, visiting Kyeng-dai and Kyeng-Mei. These are pronounced Chung-dow and Chung-my. Young Dolph Cheek’s Father, who is here now (the father, I mean) was born in the latter and recommends the trip both as being economical an the most beautiful place in the whole Far East.</p>
<p> But it is very late and I am afraid that I must stop before I become entirely incoherent. By the way, I was quite disappointed to find that Dr. Strong was against having a set of prints made until he got back. I wanted to have Dr. Allen have them made for you but he is a bit afraid of stolen thunder, which he covers with the guise that you would prefer them more in September next when I can show them personally. And he wouldn’t change, so I guess you won’t see them until <span style="text-decoration:underline;">he</span> gets back in June ( and, of course, I won’t be there to show them to you). However, Dr. Allen volunteered a set of prints of his own pictures. But enough.</p>
<p> My bestest best love to you all and my bestest thanks for the many letters from all the family. And my congratulations to K, if I did not mention it in my last letter. Again love. (I don’t know why I should slight Chud – so, congratulations to you.)</p>
<p> LORING. </p>
<p>(Dr. Allen will handle all films – and keep all my Liberian purchases until I return. Some are Hal’s.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Dublin Core
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VAD2036-U-00095G
Title
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Dearest Family, November 10, 1926
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Date
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September 12, 1926 - November 4, 1926
Coverage
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Gbanga, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Gbarnga, Bong County, Liberia
Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Gbai, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Kpaai, Bong County, Liberia
Que Congo, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Que Congo/Quellah Gar Town (Kpwessi), Nimba County, Liberia
Ziche, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Nimba County, Liberia
Tappi Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Tapeta, Nimba County, Liberia
Sinoe Town, Sinoe County, Liberia
Area now known as: Greenville, Sinoe County, Liberia
Cess River, River Cess District, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Area now known as: Cestos River, Rivercess County, Liberia
Birds
Boats
Cities & towns
Flies
Food
Leisure
Mosquitoes
Rafts
Rivers
Specimens
Villages
-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/5485a093579876044ea31694fe072728.pdf
81a17d56ab31b8f157e4838335c588c8
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/c2d5707ff1e9beae3a138339ae194be9.doc
b9307fae728fad96066052543072c612
Historical Documents
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Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
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<p>Gbanga, Liberia.</p>
<p>Sept. 22, 1926</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dearest Family; -</p>
<p> This letter must needs be short as the messenger who carries this has just come up from Monrovia and is going back tomorrow. And as he was not expected I have not had a chance to write before – and must develop tonight in preparation for the trip to the coast. Still it will be the only chance to write until I get out in Monrovia the first week in November – so I will try to make the most of it.</p>
<p> First of all my health is excellent. The day I finished writing my last letter I had a sudden spurt of temperature which went up to 105.4 but the next morning it was normal and remained so from then on. And four days later I left Monrovia for the Du River (Firestone Plantations) where we had our first base camp. Being my first day out of bed for a week the launch broke down and we were only able to get as far as No. 2 by dark where we spent the night. And the next day it rained, as we vaccinated for smallpox some 300 natives, thanks to a reported smallpox case reported from there. Then up the Du to No. 3 by whaleboat, also in the rain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><Map of campsite></p>
<p>Shattuck X</p>
<p>Linder X</p>
<p>Allen X</p>
<p>Bequaert X</p>
<p>Storage X</p>
<p>Theiler X</p>
<p>Coolidge-Whitman XX</p>
<p>Photo X</p>
<p>Lab. XXX</p>
<p>Dining</p>
<p>Cook Tent</p>
<p>Strong XX<br /><br /></p>
<p> Our camp was on a very small, long, lean, knoll, which drained into a swamp on each side but which was dry when it didn’t rain all the time. Then we walked in mud. But after all it was mud anywhere and everywhere under those circumstances. And after a few days of fair weather it did rain almost two-thirds of every day so that toward the end the films did not dry over several days. The Lab. Where I developed was a poorly constructed roof stuck on four poles. In the evening I had to hold an umbrella over me while at work. In the daytime it was used for skinning monkeys and for Dr. Strong to look at slides under his microscope. As may be gathered, I used a tent to dry films in. Now as for activity – my day was largely curtailed at the start due to my recent sojourn in bed. In consequence, I puttered around camp in the A M, shooting a few birds, drying negatives, diary writing, etc. The afternoon was likewise occupied – tho I was never allowed to go far and needs must be at hand for pictures. After a couple of days, later, I was allowed to go off a mile or so collecting with Dr. Allen and that day I made my first specimen – a red and black weaver bird which I shot. It was a slow but encouraging job because it looked fairly well when I got through with it. Later I skinned some more.</p>
<p> On the 9<sup>th</sup> of August I went for a 20-mile walk with Dr. Strong to Owens Grove on the Farmington R. and back. We passed several villages but the natives were all out in the fields or working for Firestone. Most of those left spoke English and were without interest. Owens Grove had a commissioner – 300 lbs. in khaki clothes and no shoes – very self-important. The trail to and from Owens Grove took us for the first time thru real tropical forest. Altho a bright sunny day practically none reached down to us and for a large part of the way we were in a dark, comparatively cool, tunnel. In one place we passed between and over moss-grown rocks. There are many vines and lianas so that you cannot see far, if at all, from the trail, which usually twists constantly. In some places the trail bed is good – in others it is a series of roots at irregular intervals.</p>
<p> Owens Grove itself is a region of scrub second growth with large green mountain rice fields. These fields are always filled with stumps as the native method of clearing is like that on the Du – chop high and burn. In consequence, walking thru them while hunting means one bumped shin after another.</p>
<p> Two days later, Dr. Strong, Theiler, Allen, and I went over to Schofield’s place – No. 2, Sect. 4 – where there was a devil dance (in our honor for gin). I took 500 feet of movies and some stills. The dance itself was not too wonderful and I suspect it of being quite artificial. However, it was well worth seeing. First a devil dressed in long, flowing grass skirt, a small jacket, and a mask danced. He continually chatted and talked in a high voice as tho his mouth were full of pebbles. His dance was an irregular stamping or gliding here and there in his clearing, punctuated by sitting down and waving his arms. The audience laughed at his wit. Next came a Giebo dance in which some 15 men painted yellow and black (they were all different) followed the leader in a long slow trot in and out of the arena or through the town. At times they were so interwoven that one suspected ones eyes of being queer. One chap had a pot of coals draped in leaves for a headdress. Another had no headdress, and was a born clown. After that a boy danced on stilts and a little devil bounced around – probably a joke but at least active. </p>
<p> As for the rest – Dr. Allen spent a large part of his time skinning animals and birds others shot for him. He either sat in the depths of his tent or at the dining table when it was not in use. Otherwise, when free, he went off shooting – sometimes with me when I was given more freedom. But most of the time it was skin birds, monkeys, rats, which he trapped, and sundry other odds and ends, such as pickling snakes, frogs, chameleons, etc. Dr. Shattuck dressed ulcers, etc., paid boys chop money and looked after their wants, and occasionally shot birds for Dr. Allen – his specialty being hornbills. Dr. Bequaert was always at work helping Linder dry and collect plants, catching, labelling, and “boxing” insects, soldering tin boxes of plants and animals, etc. Linder went out plant collecting every A.M. occasionally bringing in a bird or two, or possibly a frog or snake, etc. In the afternoon he was completely occupied by putting his flowers in presses and drying them. Theiler is at work most of the day looking thru his microscope at odds and ends of things. I say that because no animal, reptile, or mammal, bird or amphibian escapes the insect search of Bequaert, or the blood smears of Theiler. He is also busied examining the 200 blood smears made from humans as a survey of the malaria, etc. in the districts entered. Every afternoon from 2-3 he reads in his hut. Hal is usually busied getting out food supplies or cleaning his guns, or rather trying to persuade the gun boys to do it right. When not so busied he was out hunting monkeys or writing his diary. Dr. Strong is usually looking thru his microscope either in his tent or in the lab in case it doesn’t rain.</p>
<p> We have a very formal party really – that is, Dr. Strong is trying to make it so by punctuality at meals and very polite “Good Mornings” and “How is your healths”, etc. The rest of us are not being dragged up too rapidly. </p>
<p> As for the natives – at No. 3 there were none that lived there outside of the laborers and we didn’t see them except medically. And, as I said before, it rained most of the time so that one’s life was endangered when walking about camp, due to the slipperiness of the mud.</p>
<p> And then one bright morning I packed up my films, still wet, and we started – Dr. Strong, Dr. Bequaert, and I for our next base camp, with 140 porters and about one-half the stuff. As for the country, it was very similar to that on the way to Owens Grove. The porters carry on their heads and make surprisingly good time with my photo chemicals, which are about as heavy as any of the loads. Some, heavier, are converted in two-men loads, which are carried on poles on the shoulders or head, tho the first is more common. When they first started they were very cheerful and sang as they went tho later in the day that passed off and the change from clearing fields to carrying loads did not seem so attractive as at first. We stopped at Lango town – a small village of about 15 huts mostly occupied by a couple men and many women and children. We slept in an open building like a mud bathtub with a thatched roof. It was just about big enough for our three beds and a small table in the middle. We paid off our porters – 1/6 each and had a swim – the first since leaving home – in a small stream. Then we stayed there three days due to lack of porters. Bequaert, as usual, worked away collecting while I dried films, shot and skinned a couple of birds and a squirrel, and took some more pictures. Dr. Strong examined some of the natives and made scrapings and blood smears. On the second day Theiler arrived reporting all well behind.</p>
<p> The people at Lango town were very agreeable and indolent, supplying us with some food but no porters. They were interested in us but did not crowd us as we have been crowded. The young kids go naked – the older boys and girls wear a scant loin cloth – the girls adding a loose string of beads. The men wear odds and ends from a shirt and trousers to a toga like cloth altho when at work a loin cloth wrapped around the waist, being uncovered down to the waist. Beads are worn around the neck and scarification is common over the arms, breasts, and stomach. The women carry most of the family goods including water on their heads – their young children on their backs in their skirts as is very crudely shown in the sketch. <Drawing of woman with child on her back and pestle> They also grind up the rice in big mortars with a log as a pestle and “winnow” it in a broad fat, basket tray, getting the coarsely ground rice separated from the finely ground meal. Otherwise they do little. At Lango town there was a very good-looking and well built young girl, whom we nicknamed Rose of Washington Square. In the early morning she went down to the stream for water and again in the evening, returning with a white bucket on top of her head. Very picturesque.</p>
<p> On the 15<sup>th</sup> we moved on – Dr. Strong first and I later when more porters came in. Our destination was Kakatown which we reached in good time. Kakatown is a fairly, large place with more pretentious buildings. At Lango town the people lived in smaller, white mud, thatch roofed houses, two of which had porches. In Kakatown they had bigger houses, bungalow size, tho of the same construction. Kakatown is in a region of scrub bushes, second growth, and is hot and comparatively uninteresting. What is more, we were continually under the scrutiny of one Daniel Walker, Paramount chief, and one of the richest natives in Liberia, according to hearsay. They base wealth here as elsewhere by the number of wives, it being legal for gov’t. officials to have two – and natives as many as they want.</p>
<p> Daniel Walker has many wives – 15 or so young girls in his own house and the older ones, once his favorites, scattered here and there thru the town. Some say the total is 300 but Quien Sabe? He has plenty. He is a big, portly man about 60, with a great deal of shrewd character in his face. A tyrant with his people, bleeding the white man where possible. He has worked his way up the scale, is also a miser as well as a robber. He and his secretary, Johnson, sat on the porch of their house and watched us like cats, and at any time of day, breakfast thru supper they dropped in to ask for some gift or other, usually gin. When offered a cigaret they took six and reached for more. They asked for our shoes, trunks, boxes, etc. and nothing escaped their gaze – everything was wanted. The secretary, Johnson, was more of a parasite and had less character tho I am sure that he would have double crossed his chief had opportunity knocked. When we paid the porters thru Walker we had to count the 6-pence into his hand as twice he pocketed a couple and said we had only given him 20 instead of 22, etc. A great pair they made.</p>
<p> We stayed in Kakatown ten days. Dr. Strong dressed ulcers and made blood smears from several patients which he examined. At the same time he had a nice fever which finally put him to bed for a day. For about a week he ran a temp. between 100 and 102°. We also got word that Linder had fever at NO. 3 and Theiler at Lango town with a temp. at 104°. Bequaert joined us after two days and the three of us worked away. I shot and skinned seven birds of various species and spent a certain part of the time shooting pigeons for “chop”, as they call eating. I also set up photographic shop and developed about 600 feet of movies and a few, 60 or so, 4 x 5 pictures. One day I went with Dr. Strong to Bunda, about a half hour’s walk from Kaka, to find it essentially the same only again with smaller houses. But most of the time it rained – in 12 days we had one hour’s sun – 30 minutes one day, 30 another – so by the end of my stay I was good and sick of the place. Also, the boys made merry too much and became more or less useless. After eight days Coolidge, Allen, and Linder arrived, followed the next day by Theiler and Shattuck – all well and ready to go. And soon we did go – Strong, Shattuck, Coolidge, Linder, and Theiler first – Dr. Allen, Bequaert and I the next. The day the first bunch left I went collecting all afternoon with Allen, getting more than enough birds to keep us busy till night.</p>
<p> Kakatown is on the main high road which runs from Monrovia to Gbanga – where we are now parked. The road is quite straight and in places, where there are no swamps, it is very good and could easily be travelled by an auto except for the bridges. These are made of three logs lengthwise with a cross network of rather small poles about the size of the thumb and then covered with dirt or left bare, as they see fit. And it was along this road that we travelled from then on. 20 miles in five hours, 45 minutes brought me to Memmelis town where I caught up with the rest in time for church. Memmelis town is also in the second growth and, as we subsequently found, most of the regions we have entered so far. We were again in a big open building – eight of us – with room for a table, too. But there was little doing at Memmelis except one bright, sunny day to dry our outfits. By that time all leather was rotting and at least four kinds of mold could be found in every box and on shoes, in helmets, etc. So we used the whole day just to dry out boxes, clothes, films, cameras, etc. and a profitable day it was, too. I also got some pictures of a panyolin or scaly anteater, which had been brought in at Lango town. </p>
<p> Then off again on Saturday, the 28<sup>th</sup> of August, for Reppuestown. This was a short day but thanks to the rainy season rivers were well over their banks and in one place we had to wade 100 yards up above our knees and even to our waists to get to the bridge. At Reppues we spent the Sabbath idling in the rain. Dr. Shattuck fixed “Belly humbug him too much” etc. There was a large run on calomel. Dave and I walked out to another town, Cheneakomo, where we formed the centre of an admiring, or at least interested, crowd of spectators – mostly female. But it was uninteresting and quite dirty, so we returned to headquarters. </p>
<p> At Reppues we noticed a lot of decoration in charcoal which has subsequently been common. It takes place of cicatrization and is based on cat whiskers on the face. There are also marks on the stomach, breast, and arms but the most characteristic feature is the thin lines, usually three, extending from the upper lip. </p>
<p> Reppues town itself is mainly small cylindrical houses with a narrow door and thatched roofs, which are closely packed together. The houses are about 15 feet in diameter. Outside the town was a rather neat coffee plantation with blossoms smelling like orange blossoms. It is quite common to pass thru patches of this fragrance near the towns, especially near the coast.</p>
<p> The next jump – to Miamu- was short – about three hours and for the first time we got into woods again, which was a relief. Real trees to look at for a change from scrub bushes and raffia palm. Miamu, however, is merely a military headquarters and the town is comparatively nil. We slept on the porch of a house. While there I got a couple of birds which I skinned out – forest birds for a change – but otherwise there was little doing during our short stay. Shattuck joined us at Miamu leaving Bequaert still to come with the remainder, Strong Allen, and Coolidge in the meantime had been keeping a day ahead of us so that we were pretty well scattered. Of course, when you realize that we have need for about 240 porters you see why we are split up.</p>
<p> From Miamu to Zeanshu was a long hard day with forest and downpours all morning to soak us and the hot, open road and sun to bake us all afternoon. But when we got to Zeanshu we were in the land of lotus eaters. Shattuck stayed behind a Miamu to wait for Bequaert. At Zeanshu we noticed a good deal of charcoal design but otherwise nothing new except that the natives stood in rows watching us wash, change our clothes, etc. Some sat on the walls to get closer. And food just poured in – eggs, pumpkins, bananas, palm wine, plantains, yams, and even cucumbers. A land of luxury in which we gave out many 6 d’s. But the palm wine had no kick in it and next morning Linder and I were on the road again with 60 porters. Again it poured and again it fried us so that by 2 o’clock we were ready to crawl in a hole and die. So we stopped at a town called Bunta and had hot soup, bananas, crackers and cheese for lunch and a rest thru the noon sun. Then on again to Sua Koko. Here we had a audience during our stay three deep on our walls, shutting out all light and air. Of course, when bathing with a gallery on four sides modesty must be laid aside. Still at times it is annoying to have absolutely no privacy. The morning I left, we drove the gallery away to better see our food and where before we had been warm we were forced to put on sweaters. While I am about it – the natives sleep in walled houses but there are usually one or more open sided houses used as courtrooms or kitchens as the people see fit. </p>
<p> We have slept in those, both for the cool breezes and the added cleanliness. Sua Koko has a woman chief about 80 years old, nearly blind and looking very much like an overgrown maggot. But she rules her land with an iron hand and is still as powerful as the best of them. She told Dr. Strong, thru our interpreter, that she liked white men – they brought plenty of gin and tobacco as gifts or “Dash” as they call it here. I took some pictures but not having any gin she was not too sociable.</p>
<p> And then three hours more with 68 porters and I was in Gbanga (pronounced Banga), leaving Dave in Sua Koko, where he was joined by Shattuck, Theiler, and Bequaert. And that is the travelling. They came up two days later – on Monday, Sept. 6<sup>th</sup> – and we were again settled. 25 days from the Du River and only about 80 miles covered.</p>
<p> Gbanga is the headquarters for Mr. Clarke, the District Commissioner of District No. 2. We are in a large fenced-in compound and are occupying a huge open-sided building with the customary roof. Out behind is a big house which is the kitchen and just to one side is a round building which I have converted into a dark room. It really is the D.C.’s office but I have used it in his absence. The other buildings are residences for the D.C. and etc. Our big house is in the center and we have set up 4 tents in front – 2 behind. Hal, Dr. Allen, and I sleep in the big shack which is really our work room. We had some benches built for us where we are continually at work. <Drawing of living arrangements in Gbanga></p>
<p> <Drawing of interior of sleeping arrangements in Gbanga> Gbanga has fairly large town connected with it, a dual town in that there is the local inhabitants and then a Mandingo section, both with chiefs, altho the former is over the latter. The latter people, however are much higher class and more industrious. They do a lot of weaving and make the cloth into typical Mandingo garments of blue and white stripes. It is a low-necked smock with a square pocket at the throat. There are usually no sleeves. The cotton is first de-seeded by scaping it (and by tooth) and then it is put on a spindle which is spun by rubbing it along the thigh. The thread is then wound onto sticks placed 3 – 15 feet apart and re-wound onto sticks before putting on the loom. The loom is an affair made of poles with only a simple pattern of ordinary checkerboard style. It is controlled by the feet. The warp is hitched to a big rock which is slowly dragged nearer and nearer. The cloth – 3” – 4” wide – is rolled onto a stick as it is made until the end of the warp is reached. And usually they only weave a blue and white longitudinal strip sometimes with a blue woof to give a slight check to the cloth. Otherwise there is no new industry. However they have a market, on the order of an open air fair. All the people gather bringing in their goods, plantains, corn, yams, oranges, bananas, etc. brightly colored civilized cloth from the French border, mirrors, etc. Tobacco is the medium of exchange and nobody can buy or sell before a given word. They are first harangued as to what should be cheap, etc. Thencomes a pig pile and mad scramble among people squatting around half (calabashes) or dishes filled with “farm produce”. (gourds)</p>
<p> Another thing we have seen here is the native dance. One was staged for us in return for gin but was not very good. However it inspired the Mandingos to rivalry and stirred them into a dance of their own which we watched. It is not very exciting but is more graceful than I had expected – 15 or 20 women converging, then spreading, with swaying bodies, in the moonlight, as they went round in a circle.</p>
<p> Since I have been here I have developed over 2000 feet of movies, bringing my total to 4500 developed and 500 more taken. I have also finished 500 negatives. Both these figures are well below estimate but at least they show industry. When not taking pictures or waiting for medical cases to turn up I have been collecting and skinning for Dr. Allen or helping him skin the few antelopes, etc. we have got so far. Today, in fact, I shot and skun a francolin - like a pheasant with its tail lost – and I am exceedingly proud of my job. Yesterday I skinned out the head of a Duiker Hal had skinned. By that, I mean, Hal skinned the animal while I, next A.M. skinned out the ears, lips, etc. and cleaned off the excess meat, etc. That gives, I think an idea of the life we lead.</p>
<p> All of us are busy here. Dr. Strong is at his microscope from 7:00 A.M. till 4:00 P.M. Theiler is doing likewise. Dave and Dr. Bequaert are collecting from morning till night, and Dr. Allen is continually at work skinning or collecting. Hal has been hunting when not handling all the mean little tasks which the rest slide onto him such as running chop or arranging for porters, etc., and doing it well. Dr. Shattuck dresses arms, legs, etc. from 6:00 to 6:00. </p>
<p> The hunting here is poor as the bush is too thick for a booted white man to move silently thru. In consequence we employ native hunters with cap guns, who have brought us 3 duikers, several monkeys, and just recently a doe and fawn Royal Antelope. This is very rare and is only 10” high and about 14” long – a perfect miniature. Still outside farm rats and squirrels, etc. our mammals are still few, due to the difficulties of hunting in this country. Altho we are still in the centre of the second growth, there is a large patch of “Big Bush” in front, in which trees 200 feet high rear their heads, with vines clinging to their very tops as though trying to drag them down, and thru these monkeys play occasionally.</p>
<p> As for side trips – we have made but one. Dr. Strong, Shattuck, and I went up to the French border, 40 miles by trail, about 25 straight, to see if we could reach grass land but outside of 80 miles in 4 days we found little of interest. The same towns, though smaller, the same kind of people, the same black and tan goats, the same brown and white, thin, big-eared terriers perpetually kicked and perpetually hungry – the same non-egg-laying, half bantam chickens – the same Muscovy ducks – and at Garnu, our destination, the same government compound. And it was damned hot walking too in the tropical sun. On our way we met a gang of men road building – about 150 of them. First, they cut the woods and remove the stumps. Then they build up the road by digging holes at the side with pointed sticks. This dirt is then carried in little slat baskets to the road, where it is patted down by a row of 15 men listlessly letting flattened sticks fall on it. All is to the accompaniment of a churn so that the hole diggers pick very other beat in unison, while the animated steam rollers pat on every beat. They also sing – one man in high voce , “blah-blah-blah-blah” as though he were telling a bubbling story in song, then a chorus of “Ua/ua\ua – ua/us\ua/.” It really is quite a sight with all in time. </p>
<p> Speaking of time, practically anyone here can beat a drum as well as any orchestra drummer at home and they have a variety of drums. One instrument, a gourd in a a bead collar, is particularly good. The gourds has a handle while the cords supporting the beads are held in the other hand. <Drawing of gourd with bead collar> The variety of tunes they can get is fascinating. They also have drums shaped like a diabolo with string between the two drum heads which his carried under the arm. By squeezing the pitch can be altered. <Drawing of diabolo></p>
<p> There are two kinds of harps – one with strings held horizontal – the other with strings vertical. <Three drawings of harps> This music is largely repetition of a series of simple notes with a a base running thru it. Accordions, when present, are popular and are handled in the same way as a theme and as a base over and over again. <Drawings of dots and dots connected with a line></p>
<p> But one drum – a Mandingo drum – consisted of two large calabashes floating in water, which gave a wonderful tone with deep resonance. These are of different size and sounded like kettle drums. <Drawing of Mandingo drum></p>
<p> But we are near the end. First of all, Liberia is well settled. Secondly, is is well civilized as far as black people go. Thirdly, the government has it in its grasp right to the border and is not as we first thought, only limited to the coast. Where we are now, men work without pay and without food on the roads and without a whimper. There are no cannibals, unless it should be a person diseased from natural causes. In fact, it is a tame country. And it is remarkably healthy, too. We find plenty Schistosemiasis, hookworm, ascaris, and on the coast, malaria, but not inland. There is also plenty of tropical ulcer but the death rate seems to be low and there is little of a malignant nature. </p>
<p> Tonight we are having a clinic of microfilaria which, being nocturnal in their habits, are best studied at night. These are microscopic blood parasite worms.</p>
<p> And there are not wild animals, lions and tigers, to maul us. There are some leopards but always a week away. There are bush cow (wild buffalo) but we do not shoot them. Still I have seen them freshly killed – I mean one.</p>
<p> Yes, it is a comparatively healthy country to travel in. And our temperatures run in the rainy season from 70 to 80° With now a range of from 75-85 as the rains are vanishing. Our days now are largely sunny with thunderstorms in the evening but not violent. In fact, it is very pleasant except directly in the sun, where it is about 122° at noon. </p>
<p> And yesterday we got mail, which was a great pleasure. I got one letter from Mother, one from William, and one from Peg mailed in Lepisic, but I have lost all mail written between the first of July and the 15<sup>th</sup> of August so that casual mention of K. and her son comes as quite a pleasant surprise and I wish her the best of luck and my heartiest congratulations.</p>
<p> Please excuse this as it has been written extremely hastily and with not much coordination. I hope that you can get some idea of the country and its people as well as our life. I will cable you when I get out to Monrovia as well as send my diary, which at present is only two weeks behind.</p>
<p> But I must stop now. My best love to you all and I hope that you will all be able to get something out of this.</p>
<p> Yours loving son,</p>
<p> LORING.</p>
<p>We expect to leave Monrovia in the middle of November, getting out to the coast of Liberia the end of October.</p>
<p>------</p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
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VAD2036-U-00095F
Title
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Dearest Family, September 22, 1926
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
August 2, 1926 - September 11, 1926
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Owens Grove, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Farmington River, Liberia
Du (Dukwia) River, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 1, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 1, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 2, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2 Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 3, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 4, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Lenga Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Lenga Town, Margibi County, Liberia
Kaka Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Kakata, Margibi County, Liberia
Memmeh Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Memmeh Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Reppue's Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Bong County, Liberia
Miamu, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Maimu, Bong County, Liberia
Zeanshue, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Zienzu, Bong County, Liberia
Suah Koko, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Suakoko, Bong County, Liberia
Gbanga, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Gbarnga, Bong County, Liberia
Boats
Camps
Cartography
Clothing & dress
Diseases
Drawings
Food
Houses
Leisure
Luggage
Performances
Rubber plantations
Specimens
Villages
-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/bdedc7d2d6ce8baeb4c7afcd93c80378.pdf
eeef8e83b3a70866dc3d4a653983c3a4
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/cf55e0c328a39fffd707f73ea39fbb00.doc
b53f7afa607344b8d5ba7be0915d98a4
Historical Documents
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Transcript
To
The name(s) and email address(es) of the person to whom the email was sent
Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
<p>- 3 -</p>
<p>Several white men came aboard to get some good beer, a hair cut, and see some new faces. Dr. Willis – our present host – and Mr. Johnson had lunch with us. Dr. Willis has been in Monrovia a month. He is out here as a change from New York where he was a surgeon – and probably. quite good. Pleasant and very obliging – I don’t think that he has yet got the spirit of the place and I am afraid that he will be very glad to leave long before his 18 months are up. He has been used to the very latest conveniences and appliances in surgery and the change to superstitious, unintelligent, disobedient natives must be tremendous. His wife is also very pleasant, indeed – also a New Yorker – and of the same type. Johnson, on the other had, has been 18 years on the coast. A born handler of natives with many years experience behind him – and at the same time a lover of the bush. We are trying to get him as a chaperon for this trip as he is very congenial and of pleasant personality. He is really the “goods”. They all speak of him as knowing more about the country than any other white man here.</p>
<p> After lunch we got into one of the boats and pushed off – Good-bye Wadai – Good-bye Captain and friends of the last two weeks – we are going to land in Africa – our home for the next few months. For a while the launch towed us until we reached the bar and breakers. Then with grunts and chattering the big oars were dipped in the water and we were headed in towards the white water. Unfortunately, it was a very calm day on the bar so that we had no excitement of any kind, altho I can see that a rough day would provide many thrills. The boys settled down to work – the leader, in a high voice, would say “chung” at the beginning of the catch, while the other men in chorus would grunt “chug” as the oars bent. It was a specialized rhythm and one which seemed to fit so well with the rippling, black bodies of the 12 oarsmen. But always somebody talking in rolling, labial syllables. We drew up to the customs house where all our luggage lay piled before us on the floor. Stacks of it thrown down helter skelter, no order of any kind. We set to work to get our tin trunks and personal baggage separated from photograph chemicals and boxes of foods so that we could get it thru and up to our houses. The room was quite narrow – more of an alleyway, in which there were packed our ten tons of baggage, plus guinea pigs – our own 8 selves, a mob of some 50 or more blacks of all ages, all wanting to work, and a few officials. At the end of the room was an iron fence thru which peered another mass of black bodies, this time representing both sexes. I felt as if I were in a cage and should pace back and forth in front of the bars. We got out all our trunks finally and tacked him in two piles for we are staying in two houses. One lot of baggage was then sent off – carried on the heads of some30 boys, while I took the rest of Dr. Willis’ house in a Ford truck. Strong, Shattuck, Coolidge, and I are staying at the latter place, while Bequaert, Theiller, Allen and Linger at No. 5. <Map of Monrovia streets with numbers correlating to specific locations></p>
<p> </p>
<p>1 – The Mansion (President’s house)</p>
<p>2 – American Embassy</p>
<p>3 – Firestone headquarters</p>
<p>4 – Dr. Willis’ house (#1)</p>
<p>5 – Where Bequaert is staying (#5)</p>
<p>6 – Customs house</p>
<p>7 – Krutown</p>
<p>8 – A park<br /> </p>
<p>This plan of Monrovia is very crudely drawn but perhaps it will give you an idea. X – is the only big of cement road. It runs up the very steep climb from Water street to Ashman street where it stops with the slope. After that it is flat and the streets are mainly red dirt tracks where the automobiles have worn away the grass. White plaster buildings flank the streets on both sides – white, ugly buildings with large unscreened porches and corrugated tin roofs. And the sidewalks are red gravel with a cement curbstone. However, you usually walk in the street because the sidewalks may suddenly bulge up into a boulder or vanish into vines and grass. At the main corners are to be found traffic cops who place one hand over their heart and point majestically with the other in the direction you wish to go. Of course, you rarely meet another car.</p>
<p> There is also a park – a bare red patch of gravel-like earth – still being leveled in one corner – with four statues – the most touching is a simple spike with a plate on one side in memory of Matilda Peabody, who did a valorous deed. On the other side she is shown knocking the ashes of her pipe into the touch hole of a cannon before which stand countless figures, supposed to be people. I think that the Peruvians did better sculpture. But it is a pleasant dreamy place for all that, even though it does look a bit corroded and a bit as though it had been eroded by many rains. The people, too, are pleasant though somewhat passive. After all it is the monotony of the place which drives one into the feeling of passivity.</p>
<p> There is one thing here – big, green mango trees, 100 feet high, very dense and spread out – and a few tall silk cotton trees with straight gray trunks and big horizontal branches near the top. Beautiful trees.</p>
<p> The evening we arrived the customs man came around – 10 shillings per person was supposed to be, and actually appeared to be, sufficient, although he did ask Mr. Hines (one of Firestone’s diplomatic men) for a loan as he didn’t realize as much as he expected from us. Mr. Hines turned him down so he tried Dr. Willis, also to no effect. Poor man, his ambitions ran away with him. </p>
<p> Thursday we went to the bank and repacked. In the afternoon Hal and I went out to buy umbrellas – a necessary evil in this country where showers, and good ones, too, come at a moment’s notice. We also called on the young Firestone engineers – nice chaps from the States – and on Wolo.</p>
<p> Wolo is the African graduate from Harvard, once credited with being a chief, now proved to be a very intelligent, educated negro, who was born in Liberia and lives in the town of Monrovia with no title except professor. We went for a walk with him out the main road until we could look over the beach along which waves were breaking – waves which come unchecked from America – thousands of miles away. Dr. Bouet, a Frenchman, who has spent the last 30 years in Africa, came up to call on us. About 60 years or more, with white hair and a big nose, he still has the impetuosity and vivacity of youth about him plus a very charming personality. He has spent probably more time collecting plants and insects – not to mention animals and birds – than he has practicing medicine, a really delightful man.</p>
<p> Another man we met was Farmer – a tramp in his own estimation – he came out to work on the boundary survey but has now been enlisted in the government. He has 6 or more titles but no work and he is now getting discouraged by his inactivity. He is Chief of the Department of Public Works – and there is none. He is in charge of the harbor construction, which is not in progress. He heads the telephone service – distinctly limited – and so it goes.</p>
<p> Dr. Willis’ cook has been arrested every other day, just before supper to make it more convenient. A native of the gold coast he has failed to pay his aliens artisan tax and after two years has been arrested. Each day following he is released – a note is sent to Dr. Willis asking him to pay and the fine goes up two pounds. Starting with 2 £10 – the cook finally paid 8 £18.</p>
<p> The government being financially shy they pick on fines as one source of revenue. It is said that an Englishman one misty morning stood on his front porch in a bathrobe, to be find about 500 £ for shocking the neighbors. He was smuggled aboard a boat in the harbor and so escaped. If you hit a black for any reason at all you are broken financially when you are thru and some of the Firestone boys, swimming in the river at night paid for destroying the morals of the people.</p>
<p> The weather here has been very good – several nice sunny days and only one real snorter of a rain. But it is very unusual to get so much sun at this season of the year. The temperature is about 80 on the average with a relative humidity of 85 – 94 – rather high.</p>
<p> The days so far have been spent making official and unofficial calls on secretaries of state, the war department, on American consulate etc. – so I won’t try to catalogue them. Just days of drifting from one house to another, hoping that our supplies would get out of the customs soon.</p>
<p> However, I had one very pleasant break at 7:30 Monday morning. Strong, Shattuck, Allen, and I, with Dr. Bouet and Johnson, left Monrovia to go up to the Plantations, 25 miles away. We drove out to the beginning of a small tropical stream, completely arched over by tall trees with ferns, palms and streamers, down which we twisted in a launch to enter the big river, down which we rode until we came to its junction with the Du. <Drawing of Liberian coastline></p>
<p> Then up stream – a beautiful trip passing from brackish palm and mangrove scenery up into tremendous vine clad banks with towering 150 foot trees on each side or arching over the water – a thick dense tropical scene, very like good photographs have shown.</p>
<p> We didn’t arrive at the first plantation until 3:00, where we had lunch before pushing onto No. 2. In the morning we went up to No. 3 where we expect to set up our first camp from Monrovia. They are cutting there and we hope to better satisfy the botanist by working there. Then we came back down the river to finally arrive back in Monrovia.</p>
<p> This morning we talked to the President for a few minutes.</p>
<p> Please excuse this rush but I have been away and couldn’t write then and this morning must needs be spent in calling on the President and making arrangements for a permit of residence.</p>
<p>And the mail must be in in 5 minutes to catch this boat.</p>
<p>My best love to you all at home and I hope you think of me as often as I think of you.</p>
<p> Yours most loving son</p>
<p> LORING.</p>
<p> Harold sends his best.</p>
<p> P.S. The Plantations are but huge ever increasing clearings. As yet they have only set out spikes on No. 1 over a limited area. Still when you realize that they only started clearing in November and have now several thousand acres on each it is quite remarkable. They fell the tress, brush them and then when its dry burn the whole shooting match – insects and weather do the rest.</p>
<p> But I will write more and better later. </p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
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VAD2036-U-00095D
Title
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Loring Whitman's letter, July 7 - 12, 1926
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
July 7, 1926 - July 12, 1926
Coverage
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Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Duport, Montserrado County, Liberia
Bow River, Montserrado County, Liberia
Du (Dukwia) River, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 1, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 1, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 2, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2 Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 3, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 4, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Boats
Canoes
Cartography
Cities & towns
Clothing & dress
Coastlines
Commerce
Drawings
Houses
Leisure
Luggage
Plantations
Politics &government
Trees
-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/2c36f7cf243d222f24835c97826dcadd.pdf
28f2bfa8b841569fc94cbe380846facb
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/c8bf67849d656461046405626351db83.doc
34b6069583c058896c39d78421b0d890
Historical Documents
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Transcript
To
The name(s) and email address(es) of the person to whom the email was sent
Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
<p>Tuesday, June 28, 1926.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dear Family;-</p>
<p> This is to be just a note for I will not send my regular diary letter until we get off at Monrovia.</p>
<p> First of all, we are having a very pleasant though quiet trip. It has been a week of sunshine and quiet seas, with siestas at almost all hours of the day. The boat, though small, is extremely steady, largely because it has not hurried since we left Southampton. </p>
<p> The people on board are practically all German, except for a Mr. and Mrs. Mills and two ex-English (now West African) men, who like their bottle. There are only two frauleins – one 20 – one 14, of whom you will hear in my diary. The older one is very handsome. I took a rather good picture of her which I will send with my diary.</p>
<p> We are now stalking Teneriffe – perfectly beautiful with a majestic volcanic mountain peak towering 10,000 feet above the water. The coast line of the island is entirely devoid of vegetation – jagged red and brown cliffs rising sheer out of the water. And here and there banks of clouds nestle in some valley or drift aimlessly among the high pinnacles.</p>
<p> We are going to go ashore for the rest of the afternoon to see the sights. It will probably be a Blue Line tour but it will be very interesting and I am well equipped with negatives. </p>
<p> Talking of negatives, I have spent the last two days in the dark room making pictures and prints for the frauleins, as well as for myself. This morning I made 12 prints of the best negative, of which 9 are to go to the subject.</p>
<p> The Germans have a veritable craze for pictures. Every five minutes somebody’s camera clicks. They do their own developing too. My pictures are limited to the girls – ah ha.</p>
<p> Please excuse this – I am writing against time with the …. Pen – and as I have said, I don’t want to split the diary letter.</p>
<p> Dr. Allen delivered the families’ letters to me the other day. I was rather overwhelmed to suddenly find mail waiting for me at table. He said it was sent by air mail and I believed him – almost – for the moment, I was so pleased to see it. </p>
<p> Harold says he must reprove Peg for her slanderous remarks about his many girls, However I guess he can stand it.</p>
<p> But by this time you will have got my last letter so that you will know all that has happened to me so far – and again, my regular letter will come from Monrovia. </p>
<p> My best love to you all.</p>
<p> LORING. </p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
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VAD2036-U-00095B
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Dear Family, June 28, 1926
Creator
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Loring Whitman
Date
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6/28/26
Coverage
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Tenerife, Canarias Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Area now known as: Tenerife, Santa Cruz de Tenerife Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Atlantic Ocean, S.S. Wadai
Boats
Cities & towns
Coastlines
Leisure
Seascapes
-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/076c9ad080843c96f98191577205e4d6.pdf
76facc3b1a42a4e2027c0d189fb6c79e
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/a18c5de1ebcb274f9a737529d8873639.doc
ef1d2d575a129d986df66cc8cb1ff2e8
Historical Documents
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Transcript
To
The name(s) and email address(es) of the person to whom the email was sent
Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
Text
Any textual data included in the document
<p> 1926</p>
<p>Dear Family,</p>
<p> I am at a loss how to start. Hmm. – with many screeching of whistles the mighty steamer slowly oozed out into the river. – No, that won’t do. As the iron grayhound of the sea slipped silently from the dock, I realized with tears in my eyes and a sob in my throat that I was bidding adieu to the majestic turmoil of that marvelous city – New York – for years perhaps. I’m not so sure that that is an improvement. Oh, well, we are on our way. </p>
<p> It’s remarkable the way a farewell, a sunset, and the slow, almost imperceptible, roll of a vessel will loosen one’s tongue along romantic and idealistic lines.</p>
<p> Harold and I sat on the afterdeck and conversed, or, to be more truthful, I did, while Harold listened. Nothing was brought up without my being able to discuss it with complete understanding and couched in brilliant phrases. I hadn’t had a drink either. We completely characterized and codified all the members of the expedition, we saw to it that our families did not have a shred left to stand on. Our acquaintances were hastily dismissed, though to be sure we lingered over certain ones. And that brought us to matrimony which of course is but a stepping stone for a complete discussion of ideals – and how we did compliment ourselves. Really there is no pleasure in the world that can equal the feeling that one’s own ideals are far superior to those of the common herd. Ah, we did have such fun watching the un slowly being swallowed by jagged clouds. And yet perhaps we both had a feeling, deep, deep down, that we were seeing our last sunset in our country for a long, long time. But I can’t mentally encompass a year.</p>
<p> Fortunately one’s humor can never lie dormant for long and it was possibly a relief when I began to see the funny side of our conversation. I wonder how many thousands, nay millions, of people think themselves to be the only rational, philosophical, and at the same time, emotional beings on this earth, at the same time doubting the existence of inhabitants of other spheres. I’ve never met a person who didn’t at some time or other.</p>
<p> But we finally went below to our cubicle and started to make a little room to stand in. Clothes were hauled out of boxes and trunks, which were cast into the aisle. Each little packaged had to be examined and its good qualities pointed out. Each photograph had to be placed on exhibition and discussed. Then a final discussion of the original and the day was over.</p>
<p> We made the mistake of asking our steward, “ ‘Awkins” by name to call us at 8. I’ve rarely had such trouble in dragging myself up thru endless blackness to a heavy consciousness. However, we “drug” ourselves out and wandered aimlessly to our salt water baths, only to find them warm and decidedly soporific. Still the coffee won out and we were not removed from the tubs in a somnolent condition, and breakfast did help bring us to complete vivacity. Then came the mile after mile around the decks, up ladders, down ladders, thru drawing rooms, writing rooms, libraries, everywhere. Our only success was in the meeting a Miss Sharpe, with whom the two of us chatted for the majority of the afternoon and evening. Otherwise there is a lack of promising material, altho you never can tell. We discovered a perfectly devilish game on the top deck. It looks gentle, delicate and altogether charming but after operations have commenced the evil genii pops out and gets you. The ball is placed on the central point and the two combatants armed with sticks, as shown, stand at A and B. They touch their sticks together 3 times and then try to knock the ball into the opponent’s half and out thru the hole in the end. <Drawing of the game></p>
<p>If it is in your side of the box you must put it back thru either of the two holes in the central partition before you are in a position to score. The sticks have no surface by which you can really get a grip on the ball and you vainly bat at the darn thing in an endeavor to get or keep it out of your territory. After getting completely worn out, with blisters on both hands, Harold and I decided that we had found the most violent of all deck sports, being superior to deck tennis.</p>
<p> At 4:30 there was a horse race on B deck which was very exciting but for me a failure financially. Harold was more successful and came out all of a dollar to the good. In case of a tie the two winners are set back four places and race it off. I was in two of those and lost. Otherwise, I always came in straight second. However, it was very amusing to watch the crowd and make comments. </p>
<p> In the evening we listened to them auction the pool on the run. There are 20 numbers and the lowest sold for 9 £, while the highest went for 16 £. Most were 12 £ or thereabouts. Somebody may win some money. Then H., Betty (Miss Sharpe) and I went out on deck and played sweet music on the uke. Really a most touching party. I felt a “leetle” bit foolish.</p>
<p> Today there is a nice breeze with fog in the distance tho’ the sun is shining. There are small which caps which give an added sparkle to the sea and which make the surroundings brighter and more lively. I sat in my deck chair and read “The Private Life of Helen of Troy”, occasionally letting my eyes rove over the dancing spray in an idle fashion. But what was that splash! It couldn’t have been a wave. No – there he comes out again – a big porpoise, clear of the water to crash at the surface amidst a sparkling halo. Time and again he jumped – as far back as I could see him, apparently in a frenzy of delight at the thought of putting himself above his surroundings. And yet, even in the distance, I could see a look of earnest endeavor in this countenance. This was a serious porpoise an even the pleasures of life were not to be treated in a light vein, though to be strictly truthful I did detect a look of cynical humor lurking around the corners of his mouth, which showed far better than his actions, that perhaps those foolish people in their little steel cockle shell are not quite as wise or important as they are wont to think. With that he crashed back to his element flat on his side, sending up a contemptuous shower of spray as an offering to the lords of the sky.</p>
<p> And that reminds me, for no reason at all, that it was very amusing receiving the presents which had been sent to us. First a package would come for Harold, then one for me. Each was greeted with an exclamation of surprised pleasure and was hastily divested of its wrappings. Two of these gifts stand out from the rest – one for its dimensions and one for its originality. The first, for H, consisted of the cream of Sherry’s offerings, chocolate, caramels, cakes, jams – everything that could be thought of, all in tin boxes with ribbons. There was so much that its outside container only acted as a tray, the contents rising high again as the open cover would permit. H. does not eat candy. The other present was from George Humphreys and started with a letter. He hoped to send me gifts for my mind, body and soul. For my mind there was a book (Beebe’s Jungle Peace) – for my body o rather somebody else’s, there was a beautiful necklace “To grace the ebony throat”, and for the soul, there was music – an organ (of the mouth variety). It was cleverly thought out and done in that complete Humphrerian style – a gem of purest ray serene.</p>
<p> In the afternoon I met Donia (Smoluchowska) and that’s another story. She is, as you might guess, Polish but after that – well, we shall see. After a year’s study in London she came to Barnard, where she has been interested in early Christian archaeology – especially manuscripts. After two years at Barnard she received her ØBK Key (last week, to be sure) and is now on her way home for the first time in three years. She has already taken her M. A. exams. And is going to Vassar next year to write her thesis. She also has the job of giving eight exhibitions of paintings for the benefit of the college and is planning to have plenty of modern art in hopes that it will inspire thought among the onlookers. The college gives the chosen victim $600 to pay for the transportation of the pictures which must be procured as temporary loans. I can foresee a busy time. She is only 22. But one thing, she doesn’t pose as an intellectual – no, she is perfectly normal and friendly and very much wide awake. We asked her to join us at our table, both for our pleasure and mayhap, for hers. She had three elderly ladies to sit with before, whose horizon, at least during meals, was apparently limited to the dining table and the culinary art.</p>
<p> In the course of the afternoon Donia and I played that devilish game – already described – until we were completely exhausted. Then H. joined us and we sat in the smoking room and chatted until it was time to dress for supper. In the evening we gathered together Betty and Donia and had our first lesson in Swahili, between dances. But the day is over and our partners have left us, so we much Zu Bett Gehen. </p>
<p> Our steward, Hawkins, is a philosopher – always with an apt quotation, if we ask for it. Polite, cheerful, and in consequence, always in demand, he guides us on our maritime way. One boat he was on went ashore, another torpedoed, but still at the game. Married but no children, etc. In the morning he wakes us with coffee and hot water, a real luxury. I am afraid, however, that our joshing may occasionally seem a bit too personal and we are forced to modify our remarks to remove any possible sting which might be lurking unconsciously in the background.</p>
<p> Donia had breakfast with us this morning. Of course, we were late and were forced to start the new regime with an apology. But we’ll improve. The amusing part is that heretofore we have had breakfast at least an hour earlier. Oh well – there’s no justice in the world!</p>
<p> We actually settled down to work today. Harold and ‘Awkins went thru our “Library” and completely classified all the books, while I continued this semi-diary letter. I also checked over my accounts and had the pleasure of paying for a pool which I came next to winning. It was comforting to be second, never worse. I also walked the decks with Patsy, of whom we have seen too little, for which I feel truly guilty. However, she goes to bed early and spends a large part of her time reading so that we don’t run across her very frequently. Donia and Betty played together all morning and seemed to enjoy one anothers company so much that I am going to get Patsy into the gathering. The three of them are all entirely different. </p>
<p> After lunch we had a chat with the baggage master. The subject turned to missionaries and I am afraid that our friend, Mr. Egan, was perhaps a little too hard on them. The younger sons of business men who went to college and spent all their money in the west end of London – “or the east end” as an afterthought – and instead of going into law or politics – “as most wealthy men do” – they were thrown out by their families and were forced by circumstances and the lure of idleness to spend a year preparing for the ministry. Then they could live off the land and build special houses for their black ladies with sand around them which would tell whether anyone had been near. Of course they knew nothing of religion – and why should they when they can drink whiskey and soda? Mr. Egan thought the American missionaries to be a little better and have a neutral rather than deteriorating influence on the country. The police – ex-army men – who had failed to get their majority – wear monocles and talk with a broad accent to impress the natives. </p>
<p> I tried to read in our statesroom but boredom got hold of me and I took to the decks in search for amusement. I ran across Betty on the boat deck.</p>
<p> Just before dinner I looked up the Baizley’s and spent an hour or so getting the daily exercise and all that.</p>
<p> The trouble is, that we have, shall I say corralled, three young ladies for whom we egotistically feel responsible. Its really a very difficult position. Of course you gather from this that we consider ourselves the only eligible on board.</p>
<p> After dinner I introduced Donia to Patsy while Harold wandered off. Then what could I do when it came time to dance? Donia disappeared below for a while so that I could dance with Patsy but when she returned we sat. Luckily Harold was conscious of my plight and returned to my assistance as soon as he could shake off his other friends. But enough for today.</p>
<p> We are blessed with fog this morning – you might guess it was Sunday – and every few minutes the foghorn roars its message into the soft white mist which surrounds us, to be swallowed up and lost forever. While Harold attended church services, Donia and I walked the deck peeping thru the windows of those more conventionally inclined.</p>
<p> We asked one of the officers on the bridge whether we could go out on the bow but he only said we might fall off. Of course on ship if they do not say No, you usually take it to mean Yes, so down the ladder we went and out into the bow. Soon a whistle blew and a seaman came out to inform us that we were treading forbidden paths. Still we got there. We continued our promenade until Harold found us and took me off to see the gyro compass. We were escorted by a very good-looking young officer who had come to the conclusion that it was boring to be pursued by the ladies and that, oh well, there was nothing really interesting aboard on this run. After asking many questions about the compass we toured the third and second class. He talked of the good times had by all on the Mediterranean cruise, of the people, the places and the parties, all couched in a very quick and humorous vein. And he was young and good-looking, really I know he was sorry for them.</p>
<p> I do hate to be cruel, but I have had the pleasure, if you will, of meeting the dummest – yes, it's the only word for it – girl that I have even dreamed of. Possibly when you realize that she has visited Riggs’ Sanitarium you will understand, altho I pity Riggs. I couldn’t make a single remark that required thought but that I had to explain it. Humor was a complete loss. Boy, wot a goil! This evening I watched her dance. Never did her expression show any signs of animation and even her feet moved with the same regularity and apathy which seems to have enveloped her.</p>
<p> But to be more cheerful, Harold and I practiced shooting quickly, working the bolt of the rifle – getting into action and all that until the rain forced us to seek some less martial form of entertainment. We went down to our stateroom and overhauled an article which Harold is writing on his Alaskan trip. I had great fun trying to write a description of his guide whom I have never seen but of whom I was able to form a vivid imaginative picture. It was really very entertaining to describe a landing in Alaska when one has never been there or even heard it discussed. Dr. Timme was the next on our program. We cut in on his exercises and promenaded the decks. Our conversation quickly became medical so that for an hour we had the pleasure of the physiology of glands with a specialist in that line.</p>
<p> Betty joined us for dinner which was followed by bridge and dancing (and on Sunday, at that). At 11:00 Harold had to leave us so that I was left with the two of them on my hands. We ended up by going down to Donia’s cabin and playing soft music on the ukulele until after 12:00, when the party broke up. </p>
<p> Today has been, perhaps, the most pleasant of the voyage, yet I have absolutely nothing to write about. It would seem that outside of the very charming lunch I have nothing but sit in a deck chair with Donia – I mean beside – from (;00 to 5:00 – a good 8-hour working day , and I won’t try to give an account of our conversation. However, I can say something about our Brazilian friend who has by now proved his sterling worth as a table companion. Short, round of face with a small slightly turned-up nose, always peeking over the top of a Brazilian cigar, a florid complexion, and brown hair, and finally a foreign accent – this will gibe his type perhaps but will not enable you to discern the tact and humor that lurks behind his remarks which we now find all too few. Experience has given him a quiet, unassuming pose which, but for Donia, would have blinded us to his true value. He will enter a conversation when he has something to say and yet keep discreetly in the background if our chatter does not interest him. Always attentive he hears all but talks little. First he told us some interesting points about coffee plantations. Then we found Europe a familiar haunt for him. In fact, he is on his way to Paris to spend 57,000 francs (maybe the sun was larger). This was his reply to the question of how long he was going to be there. But at lunch he really opened up. He has made two trips to Africa hunting and on one of them he met Col. Roosevelt and joined up with him. He has also hunted tigers in India and wants to get back there again before he dies. And what’s more, he seems to be speaking the truth. Yes, Mr. Carnalbas, we are very glad to have you at our table.</p>
<p> But soon our voyage will be ended – a most pleasant voyage and as it is my first, the most pleasant. To be sure we have met few people but we have been extremely fortunate in meeting them. New ideas, new customs, and new thought processes have been opened to us for an all too short length of time.</p>
<p> We arrived at Plymouth at about 5:00 A.M. but were too busy sleeping to bid farewell to those of our fellow travellers who were leaving us there. After breakfast, for the first time ahead of the Brazilian, we started the long and rather sad job of packing. By the way, Mr. Carnalbas suffers from insomnia and in consequence a four hour sleep at night is a high average. At twelve we dined, Donia, Harold, and I for the last time together before the little tugs came bumping alongside to carry off the majority of our associates. Donia and I walked around the decks until the immigration men came aboard to deliver landing cards. We leaned over the rail in the sparkling sun to watch countless gulls wheeling, rising, falling, on motionless wings alongside the vessel. There was a stiff breeze which whipped the top of the small waves into flashing diamonds against a dark blue sea. The gulls, like giant snow flakes, weaved back and forth, without effort, tireless and undaunted and in the background were the green fields of France, hovering around the apparently tiny town of Cherbourg. </p>
<p> But we are re-crossing the Channel again and will soon arrive at our destination, Southampton, where once more we will dive headlong into the mad whirl of customs, baggage transportation, and dusty trains. Our brief vacation from worry is over and again we will enter the stream of life as an integral part rather than a spectator.</p>
<p> I hope this has given you some idea of our journey and that it may give a slight hint toward judging and understanding the people with whom we have been travelling. But poor as it is, I am afraid that what muse I have has deserted me. Do not expect more than a travel diary in future – the kind that runs – “Breakfast at 8:10 – followed by packing and checking baggage – met an interesting fellow who is at our hotel – after lunch went shopping but was unable to get just what I wanted – after dinner the theatre and then weary to bed”.</p>
<p> Harold has asked me to have this copied and sent to his family to give them some idea of the trip. Whether it will interest them or not I don’t know but I suppose that it will give them a different person’s ideas on the subject. </p>
<p> Give my love to Grandfather and Grandmother and to all the friends you may meet. Your affectionate son – LORING.</p>
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Dear Family, June 9, 1926
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Loring Whitman
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June 9, 1926 - June 15, 1926
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Atlantic Ocean, S.S. Wadai
New York City, New York, USA
Plymouth, Devon County, England
Southampton, Hampshire County, England
Cherbourg, Manche Department, France
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https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/36bf61854b588d496ee5af86415944fa.pdf
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<p>From</p>
<p>William Whitman Company, Inc.</p>
<p>Boston</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Africa 1926</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Loring’s letters and photographs</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Whitman Jr</p>
<p> 17 Commonwealth Ave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Improved Columbian Clasp No 97</p>
<p>Pat. Jan.7. ‘19</p>
<p>The United States Envelope Co. Springfield, Mass. </p>
<p>From</p>
<p>William Whitman Company, Inc.</p>
<p>Boston</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Africa 1926</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Loring’s letters and photographs</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Whitman Jr</p>
<p> 17 Commonwealth Ave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Improved Columbian Clasp No 97</p>
<p>Pat. Jan.7. ‘19</p>
<p>The United States Envelope Co. Springfield, Mass. </p>
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VAD2036-U-00094
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Loring's letters and photographs envelope
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Loring Whitman
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2906a50491f293128729c6193403f7d8
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/8cc7b02f86d7570ac4efe778a2dbfecf.doc
2049a40b03a904f02d7f873b84b5c4f1
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<p>Letter No. 3. </p>
<p>On board the “S.S.Wadai”.</p>
<p>En route to Monrovia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dear Family;-</p>
<p> Once more we are bounded by blue water, through far to the east we can see the coast of France dimly showing through the haze. But we are in vastly different surroundings from those which graced our passage across the Atlantic.</p>
<p> First of all the speed – its rather difficult to realize that we are going full speed ahead after the terrific speed of the Mauretania. For a long time we told one another that it was only half speed until we woke up this morning to find our pace unaltered. Still a slow boat is more comfortable and after all what is hurry?</p>
<p> Secondly the size – compared to the Mauretania with its many layers of decks, its lounges, and sitting rooms, its long corridors and countless staterooms, this boat is but a toy or at best a small lighter. The water seems so close, even when standing on the top deck and one no longer has the sense of towering above the world. And it is necessary to walk twenty times round the deck to cover a mile. Then again instead of “Right you are” or “Righto” we are surrounded with “Ja” and “bitte”, although we don’t have to speak the language to be understood. “Kein Zutritt” or “Boots decken” are the types of signs that we see. And yet it is very clean and comfortable, the food is excellent and the passengers all German except four.</p>
<p> Yesterday was the busy day – an early breakfast, a trip to the bank to get countless half crowns, florins, shillings, and sixpences. We had packed the night before so that we are comparatively ready to start. Then came tipping to the right and left – upstairs and downstairs – east and west. All the accumulated luggage for eight people was brought out and placed on top of a bus, five dress suit cases, 20 tin trunks, 1 tin hat box, 1 rifle case – all had to be counted several times to make sure that it was all there. Then the usual wait for something lost or still to be got and we were off from the hotel – off from London – off for Africa.</p>
<p> The trip to Southampton was quiet and beautiful but instead of being the first green fields we had seen, it was the last we were to see for may days. It was interesting to compare the scenery from the train with that from the plane. The fields which had looked so tiny now locked quite large, while the green wool trees were majestic oaks. Gone was the roar but in its place dust and cinders. The constant rising and falling had given way to a steady jiggling and jarring and yet it is pleasant to be able to smell the freshness of the English countryside – a pleasure foreign to flying. We talked of cooks, of sleeping sickness and yellow fever, of travelling in the Orient. But above all, we dreamed of events to come in the future, of black people, of endless tropical forests shimmering in the reflected heat, of the Monrovia officials in silk hats and umbrellas.</p>
<p> At Southampton we again counted our luggage before taking a taxi to the docks where we met Bequaert, who had stowed the rest of our supplies on board the lighter which was to take us out to the Wadai. We handed over our passports and tickets and once more filled out “Aliens Cards” before we could board the boat. Then came the anxious moment when they lowered the remainder of our supplies about in a net.</p>
<p> But soon all was on board – a whistle blew – and we backed away from the dock – and England – to slowly glide down the harbor. Theiller, Hal and I sat and watched the white mice and guinea pigs, of which we hope to have plenty. They seemed so out of place there on the deck of a boat, constantly milling around to get as far as possible from the cool wind which blew into their boxes. Dr. Strong gazed wistfully in the meantime over our luggage – 3 ½ months food and a year’s scientific outfit for eight men. Still, he smiled. But we were alongside the Wadai and it was time for us to move once more.</p>
<p> It was quite exciting watching them swing all our goods and chattles on board in the nets – guns, trunks, chemicals, and dress suit cases were all poured in together to fuse into a soft, jelly-like mass, or, so we felt, as the crane lifted them, hung them for a perilous moment over the water, to finally yank them on board and dump them.into the hold. I tried to turn my eyes away but the horrible fascination of the scene gripped me and I watched the last box being hoisted clear of the lighter to swing at last into the depths of the Wadai. Then up came the anchor – whistles blew for the final time and we swung round and away.</p>
<p> For a while we watched the shores of England drift slowly by, the same shores which seemed so new a week ago but now waved to us as if we were leaving home. Dr. Shattuck and I stood on the top deck and commented on the slowness of the boat and how close to the water we were compared to the big trans-Atlantic boats. I then tried to inveigle (look’s wrong) him into having a cocktail as the sun was just over the yardarm but he confessed to a puritanical feeling at the moment. I then tried to seduce other members of the party – but no – and I refuse to drink alone. Ah, me, it's a lonely world. We had tea and coffee instead. At supper we presented a flag which Hal had had made – and an American flag with a little note to Dr. Strong. We then drank to the health of the absent ones and dinner was on. In the evening I went down to my cabin and played the uke by my lonesome in the dark. It was the first time that I had had it with me since we landed in England and I felt very glad to have it back. After an hour I wandered up to the deck. The sun was just setting behind low jagged clouds which floated above the dark land. There was just a faint line between the ever restless water and the cliffs which formed the end of England and over these faint rays shot down through little holes in the clouds linking the sky with the earth and with these holes, as if framed, more billowy masses stood out each one rimmed with gold. If only I could paint. <Drawing of box with “Harvard African Expedition”> </p>
<p> I ran across Mr. and Mrs. Mills. He was vice-consul for the British at Rio de Janeiro for the last three years and is now going to Monrovia to take over the post there. Interesting, but with no humor, he is setting out for a desolate spot with the usual English stoicism. His wife of two weeks is American, born in Chicago, lived in Greenwich – with much vivacity and humor. She has never been in the tropics before and –well, I pity her from the bottom of my heart. She seemed a little starved even in two weeks for news of the U.S.A. and to talk with somebody who was American. And every mile joke had to be explained to her husband.</p>
<p> We had an awful time with breakfast. Before we went to bed they advanced the clock about one-half hour so we all got up by that time for breakfast, to be told we were only an hour and forty minutes too early. Fortunately, Hal and I had decided to sleep late so that by getting up at nine o’clock we didn’t have long to wait for early breakfast it was another beautiful day – a brisk breeze chasing little white cape over an otherwise calm sea. We walked a couple of miles (2 measured) around the decks before settling down to writing and otherwise occupying our time. Some of us slept – the after effects of London – some wrote letters home – and some just sat in deck chairs. Hal and I resurrected or guns from the hold but did not have time to really unlimber them. After lunch more exercise – deck tennis – shuffle board – mile after mile walks at rapid pace round the decks – even running – until by tea time we were completely worn out. Dr. Allen, Linder, and I spent a large part of our time watching the Jaegers, Shearwaters, and Gannets through field glasses, discussing them. </p>
<p> After dinner, Hal and I were standing outside, when the only two frauleins came along. They speak practically no English and we absolutely no German. We had a wonderful time with a German-English and an English-German lexicon. You should have been with us. We danced with them to the pitifully slow music of the boat orchestra. The older one, Ada Fehling, is extremely handsome as well as German-looking with a rather statuesque bearing. The younger one (14) Elisabeth, on the other hand has all the spontaneity of a tomboy and took us in tow. We had a very amusing evening talking with them. We call Harold “Ick” now after his pronunciation of “Ich”. The only trouble was that we couldn’t shake the younger and even her family had no influence over her. Her Mother’s arguments were met by a pair of heels as he disappeared round the corner to meet us later as we headed for our cabin.</p>
<p> Friday June 25<sup>th</sup>. I suppose I had better start putting in dates, otherwise, I will soon be lost. My day has been spent playing with Elisabeth, or “Fox” as she is called, meaning for-terrior. It is a very good name for her as she is never still for a moment. We started by tossing rubber discs until Theiller came along. Then we played shuffle board, Hal having joined us, for hours. Fox and I stood Theiller and Hal but T. was too good for us. Also we got into the minus ten square three times running towards the end of the game. But finally the game was over so that Hal and I could take our walk. We ended up with a half mile run which made us appreciate the cold shower all the more. After lunch I went up on deck to sleep in the sun. Unfortunately I picked a popular spot for soon the frauleins dragged chairs across and with them came their friends. My siesta was ruined. We lay around and talked until “Fox” kicked the foot-piece from under her next door neighbor’s feet or untied his shoes or otherwise made herself agreeable. I don’t think she sat down for more than five seconds at a stretch. Finally I got restless too and reverted to my arboreal ancestors, I climbed and clambered over whatever scaffolding I could find. It was excellent exercise. Fox joined me in this sport while Ada followed more majestically. But after a couple of hours of this harmless sport, I tired and went below to the peace and quietude of my cabin where Hal soon joined me. We wrote a few letters and cleaned up odds and ends before taking out our rifles for our daily practices. Theiller joined us so the three of us stalked game, fired rapidly, and generally made damn fools of ourselves as far as the audience (mostly crew) was concerned. But supper is ready and we must get dressed.</p>
<p> As we sat at table looking out over the rolling water, the moon peeked over the horizon - a large red disc slowly rising thru a golden haze from out a purple sea – as it rose it gradually changed to a brilliant yellow, casting a mellowness over the water – foreign to its usual lustre – a harvest moon. I went up to the top deck alone and just sat drinking in the sight. I don’t remember even trying to think – no, I just sat and absorbed the softness and peacefulness. Later Mr. and Mrs. Mills joined me. We sat there for hours it seemed, just talking. Mr. Mills had vanished in the meantime. We talked of America, of Liberia, of Paris and Algiers. But even the glory of the evening was not sufficient to keep the cold creeping in upon us so we were forced at last to wander below. I took the opportunity and went to bed early.</p>
<p> Saturday – June 26<sup>th</sup>. I am afraid that these letters of sea life may prove a little boring. Still we must be complete and I am trying o make them as palatable as possible altho I will not guarantee their worth at the end of this two weeks’ trip. Today, for me, has been one of pursuit – I acting as the pursued. It is a very novel experience for me but it has its drawbacks especially when conversation is largely curtailed through limited vocabularies. Another unfortunate circumstances is that my pursuer is but 14 years old and although I am not immune to the cradle, still I do not believe – it’s the principle I mean – in flirting with the young. I made the very foolish mistake of showing her a photo of Donia and me which Hal too on the Mauretania and she practically tore off the picture of me to keep. I had to take it away by brute force saying that I was going to send it to my fiancée, etc. No dice and now I am pursued for a picture. It really is very funny though, she has taken to retaliation or better, revenge, which means that we must keep our cabin locked at all times. Today there was soap on the tooth brushes, coat hangers in the bed, pajamas in the wash basin, etc. However, many others on board have suffered in like manner. The ship’s doctor had perfume and powder sprinkled thru his blankets.</p>
<p> But before all this complication arose, I had a very pleasant time talking to Fox and playing with the little half German, half Japanese kid. I resurrected my knowledge of past toys and built block houses out of shuffle board discs.</p>
<p> In the evening I played bridge with two old men and Mrs. Mills. It was rather a sleepy game, in which she occasionally trumped my ace. Still we had a good time and I was spared the frauleins for a moment.</p>
<p> Sunday – June 27<sup>th</sup>. A day of rest for most of us, though Dr. Strong paced the decks with streaming brow. It is a dull, hot day, practically no breeze – the sea is oily and dull – the sky a smooth, creamy gray – and yet it is hot. In the morning I did my best to write but it was only with the greatest concentration that I could keep my mind on the subject. I gave up finally to make a few more “dampfers” or “schiffs” for Anita – the little half caste with oriental eyes and black hair. Then to the top deck with the “Diary of a Young Lady of Fashion” for a few hours quiet. After awhile Anita joined me again – sat down in a deck chair beside me and asked for more. Luckily the Doctor had some paper in his pocket. Then I took her down to lunch.</p>
<p> In the afternoon I took my customary siesta in the company of “Luti” or “Fox”, on the top deck where the breezes blow and the sun shines. It’s very pleasant just to be able to sit in the sun and dream – no effort, no time – just sit – and the next thing you know its four o’clock and time for coffee. I tried to walk with the chief but Ada stopped us to take his picture. And then I must needs see some negative of me, and retaliate by taking a picture of Ada – so the afternoon ended with my talking to the two girls.</p>
<p> After supper Mrs. Mills and I continued our game of bridge but set a time limit on the game. Of course, we lost again. Then came dancing once more to ghostly music – so slow that you almost stick to the floor you stay in one spot so long. But just before we started dancing a big yellow moon rose majestically from out the ocean to hang for a moment over the sea, before climbing up behind the clouds to disappear for the night. Ada asked Dr. Strong to dance with her. It was distinctly amusing to hear the chief’s suave excuses. We sat, Dr. Strong, Hal, Dr. Shattuck, Dave, and I escorted by Ada, Luti, Frau Fehling, the Captain, for about an hour before going to bed, kidding one another along. Then I got my ukulele and the two girls, Hal, and I made much music on the top deck.</p>
<p> Monday – June 28<sup>th</sup>. The laziest day I have spent so far – no exercise at all. Still I did accomplish something by developing some of the pictures I had already taken. One of them, which I will include in this letter, is rather good – a picture of Ada. It was good fun to get back into the old dark room again, even thought I was working with unknown chemicals. I then went up on deck where I found Luti and sat for a couple of hours in the sun with her.</p>
<p> After lunch, Hal, Dr. Shattuck, Ada, Luti, and I sat three-quarters asleep on the boat deck. It must be quite amusing to see give peoples’ eyes shut, slumped down in deck chairs, “jus’ settin’” without saying a word. Hours pass and rarely a movement on anyone’s part. But the sun crept in under our awning when I wasn’t looking and – oh, arms are very, very burnt. Later in the day – after coffee – I printed some pictures for Ada – not very good – which she then gave me. It seems to a custom among Germans to exchange the countless photos which they are taking without end.</p>
<p> After supper I happened to hear Dr. Strong playing his violin in his cabin. I listened for a while, then getting my uke I sneaked up to the boat deck, lay down in a hammock beneath the stars and just enjoyed myself alone. However, after about half an hour Herr Bobzien and Fran ----- (?) came along and stopped. So did I. A minute later Frau Fehling came to listen. And when Hal came we moved to more quiet regions. Mrs. Mills joined us later so we serenaded her with all the songs we could think of. But we must join the ladies. Later in the evening I fetched once more my uke – by request – and played for an audience of about ten. But, so ends the day.</p>
<p> Tuesday – June 29<sup>th</sup>. Land Ho! The same calm sunny weather is still with us, only each day is hotter than the one before. And each day I get more and more crimson. Early in the morning we could see the peak of Teneriffe rising out of the water to the south, 100 miles away – a sharp pointed peak about which clouds slumbered in the morning sun.</p>
<p> I developed some more of my own pictures and a roll of film for Ada. It’s hot in the dark room – especially with two in it.</p>
<p> But when I finished and popped up again into fresh air and daylight, there was an island – close by now – towering sheer out of the water. No trees, no green of any sort – just ragged, red and brown cliffs rising directly out of the water, to end in irregular spikes and pinnacles. And behind all this rose the central peak, 1,000 feet high, its head now shrouded by clouds – the guardian of the Islands. We slipped along the shore to find occasional villages snuggling into some little pocket in the cliffs at the very water’s edge, while behind rose tier on tier of irrigation terraces – a mute testimony to the dryness of the country. Two little sail boats came bobbing across to waves to look us over, with a dusky crew of youths singing lustily in Spanish. But we were entering the harbor now – to be sure a mere curve in the shore line with a mole along which freighters lay with much clanking of machinery, as bale after bale of merchandise was swung up from the docks to hang for a moment before diving forever into the bowels of the ship. And along the mole were lines of people who had come to see the boat dock – mostly Spanish in overalls or other dilapidated clothing, though a few Europeans in white suits mingled with the crowd. No one was in a hurry – no one moved any more than was actually required – they just stood in one spot talking – gesticulating – and, as we finally drifted alongside, begging. The minute the gangplank was lowered we were boarded by a villainous-looking crew who swarmed the decks in countless numbers. We locked our cabin doors hastily. They were the longshoremen who were to unload what freight we had. Still a more formidable lot of cutthroats I have rarely seen.</p>
<p> We disembarked and for the first time in six days set foot on shore. We were immediately surrounded by a loquacious group of beggars, hotel agents and guides, who jabbered at us in a mixture of all languages, of which Spanish made up the greater part. We were first pushed into a small Chevrolet, but five of us and a driver in a car really designed for four was more than we could stand. We therefore climbed out and demanded a new vehicle – pointing to a Fiat next us. We had been told it was a private car but they changed their minds when they saw we were resolute. Then the guide wanted to come along but we turned him down. More voluble Spanish and still more. Nobody seemed to want to go. However, by verbally prodding the driver into activity we at last got underway to the incessant tune of a squawking French horn. I promise here and now that if even I meet the inventor of that devilish instrument face to face, one of us will die. </p>
<p> After leaving the dock we passed up through the town of Santa Cruz – typically Spanish (so I am told) with narrow streets paved with cobble stones and always balconies. Everything was closed even though it was only 4:30 but from every window and doorway peered the famous Spanish beauties. The shutters all are suspended from above so that you can put your head out and still be protected form the sun and I must admit that they make the best of these opportunities. The houses were plain, smooth plastered walls painted in pink, blues, whites, etc. presenting a rather a formidable exterior to the traveller outside. And always somebody looking out.</p>
<p> But soon we left the town behind, to climb in snakelike fashion up, up, up – until we could look down onto the very rooftops onto the harbor with its toy boats, out onto the deep blue sea dotted by an occasional sail – out across to other jagged islands looming dimly thru the distant haze. We were in an arid land now – cactuses flaking the road while terraces of straw colored wheat or dusty corn stretched away on either side, and always the torn and jagged horizon around us. We passed person after person trudging alongside, the women carrying water, or sticks, or other sundries perilously perched on their heads. Men usually rose already overburdened, diminutive donkeys. Quite a change from the bustle of London. An occasional ox team passed and once two camels trudged slowly by, their noses in the air in haughty disdain. As we reached the top we found more extensive fields on each side of us while the road was shaded by tall eucalyptus trees – a relief from the hot sun which bores through everything. And then we plunged down to the other side to again return to the vari-colored terraces. It was just like a crazy quilt only done in yellows, greens, and browns, all in little patches, on the steep volcanic slopes which plunge into the sea. And way down below us, where there was an amphitheatre, lay the little town of Oratava, surrounded by endless fields of banana trees – really a forest of them. We skirted the edge of the island, coming round corners to gaze over the bright, arid slopes, occasionally we could look down on harvesters winnowing the wheat on some exposed knoll. A little wall would surround the bright yellow amphitheatre in which some six or more people diligently worked, tossing up yellow clouds which drifted slowly down with the wind. While the background rose the peak now bathed in mist, now towering above the clouds, which always nestled along its slopes.</p>
<p> We stopped at the botanical gardens, a jungle of assorted tropical flowers, or rather trees, half of which are not labeled. Still it was beautiful. At one end was a little pool with black swans in it, while a dark blue, green tree, (like cedar) leaned over the water. This was all surrounded by ivy-grown walls. Our next port of call was the bathing beach – it consists of black lava pebbles and jagged rocks. One could hardly call it a beach – the swimming it more ducking up and down in shallow pools. Everywhere were Spanish families – the youngsters naked – sitting around a spotless tablecloth on which was spread wine and milk for the baby. The little ones were beautifully browned from the constant exposure to the tropical sun. But we had no bathing suits!</p>
<p> On our way back we passed regular canons, now dry but which in the rainy season must be torrents as they plunge down the almost vertical slopes of the island. And across them are tall arched bridges. But I am afraid that I am unable to give you a picture of the place.</p>
<p> We returned to Santa Cruz where we had supper. Then Theiller and I returned to the boat. On our way we decided to get some cigarettes and as neither of us knew any Spanish, we hoped to have a good time. But, of course, the first thing we saw was Camels and the man behind the counter spoke very good English. Oh well, such is life. </p>
<p> But back abroad the Wadai there was still activity. Box after box was being swung clear of the dock in the blaze of electricity, while overhead the bright tropical stars gleamed and the water lapped against the breakwater. We sat on the rail watching the men working – bright highlights and deep shadows, till off in the east a yellow moon rose out of the sea.</p>
<p> Wednesday – June 30<sup>th</sup>. We awoke to find ourselves again drifting over the water – a hot, leaden sun was pouring through a morning haze, while a sort of breathlessness enveloped us. But as we were eating breakfast we entered the harbor of Las Palmas – a real harbor in which many boats were busily engaged in loading or unloading their cargoes. As soon as we dropped anchor – we did not dock – we were again boarded, this time by Indians who were selling every conceivable kind of trinket at outrageously high prices, although they were perfectly willing to accept one quarter of the original price. Bracelets, rings, ebony elephants, cigaret holders, lace, shawls, etc., all strewn over the deck.</p>
<p> Dr. Allen, Bequaert, and I stayed on board while the rest of the party went sight-seeing ashore. I said good-bye to the frauleins, who are leaving us here, and then spent most of the time looking over the motley crew. One man rowed alongside with a cargo of assorted fruit, puppies and canaries for sale. Another had fish, still others offered cigarets while a few just begged. They looked so picturesque, floating on the brilliant blue water in the bright sun. And always the constant rattle of four sets of machinery as the four holds were emptied into huge barges. A water boat came alongside to pump endlessly. In the afternoon some boys came alongside to dive for coins in the clear water. It was fascinating to watch them swimming about under water for the flashing silver.</p>
<p> But at last we finished loading – the anchor slowly clanked up and we were off again – for five more days before we arrived at Freetown in Sierra Leone.</p>
<p> In the evening I developed some more pictures and nearly spoiled them the water was so hot. </p>
<p> Thursday – July 1<sup>st</sup>. Still another day at sea – a fresh following wind but rather dull. Hal and I took our first walk round the deck in two days. I am afraid that we were getting very lazy. I think disappeared into my dark room to make prints which lasted until lunch time. I spent most of the afternoon talking to Mr. and Mrs. Mills and walking with the chief. Really a thrilling day to write about. And in the evening I disappeared for nearly two hours to the top deck where I played music to myself – alone. Then bed –</p>
<p> Friday – July 2<sup>nd</sup>. The dampness is getting more and more oppressive every day, altho the actual temperature is still low -75. And as it gets muggier we, in turn, slowly lose our activity. I spent the morning doing just two things – one was writing my diary which I had ignored for over a week – the other was playing with Anita. She sat on my lap for over an hour while I made vain attempts to draw pictures for her. My imagination was excellent even though my execution was poor. Then we hit upon the happy idea of tracing one another’s hands on one sheet of paper over and over again until there was practically no white left. She is really a fascinating child – black hair and dark brown, inquiring eyes, half oriental, and a roguish grin. She is absolutely self-contained and goes around by herself, singing and paying no attention to theirs. Her Mother is a mixture of Japanese and Polynesian – very oriental but with the charm of both races in her face – while her Father is German. In some ways she is going to lead a hellish life – with all the emotions of the occident and orient clashing one with the other and always a half-caste. I pity her although she will be very interesting. But now “she has my hear, my love an’ all, just as sure as stars done shine”. I suppose she is 4 years old.</p>
<p> There is another child aboard – about 2 – with a round baby face and almost white hair, she is so blonde. Her name is Emeline Frauendorf. Her Mother is typical of the ultra blonde, healthy, outdoor Bavarian woman – about 25 – while her Father is a big, stocky, very pleasant looking, brown-haired German. Emeline and Anita form complete antitheses altho they enjoy one another’s society.</p>
<p> I spent the afternoon in utter boredom. I was too lazy to read and too restless to sit down – altho I was not energetic enough to walk. So I spent most of the time wandering from one chair to another in search of entertainment. But it evaded me and I returned to my cabin to pick up Les Miserables – in French – and was soon engrossed. But at 4:30 I hove myself up on deck to walk 5 or 6 miles with Dr. Strong, as per usual. In some ways it is extremely uninteresting when one trip around the deck is only about 100 yards. Still it must be done both for my health and the chief’s pleasure, (we hope). And, too, it makes a shower and a cocktail all the more agreeable.</p>
<p> By the way, the cocktails on this boat are vile - no other word for it. I asked for a Manhattan – ugh -. The next day I tried a Martini, to find it exactly the same. So, on the third day I ordered a Bronx to have still the same identical mixture shoved at me. So now we have a gin and vermouth (there are only two of us who practice this evil custom.)</p>
<p> After supper I was summoned from the coolness and quietness of the boat deck to bridge below – of course, we lost some more – but we couldn’t get out of it. However, I said that I must top early to do some printing – and then I had to do it. But after perspiring for about an hour in the dunkle kammer (dark room), dressed only in sox, I re-clothed myself and went out on deck where I ran into Herr Feltmann – a very nice young chap (24?), who is going down to work on a plantation in Victoria for two years’ experience. We talked about planting and then switched to guitars and ukes. He has a flute with him.</p>
<p> But while I remember it – as the chief and I were going round, round, and round the decks we sighted a school of porpoises which stretched in a band from one horizon to the other, all jumping. I have never seen so many before nor have any of our well travelled members. Miles of them leaping clear of the water to splash back. And as we passed thru the cordon, the nearest of them converged upon us to disport themselves in the waves about us, then off again to fill the ranks as they slowly drifted north.</p>
<p> Saturday – July 3<sup>rd</sup>. Hot weather is coming now – in fact, we had a rise of 7 degrees last night and 4 more during the day – a really hot, muggy day when the last drop of energy oozes out thru the pores of the skin. I spent a very pleasant morning reading “Hangman’s House” – charming book – I hated to lay it aside for lunch and immediately returned to it after the meal. It was very comfortable sitting in the light breeze without moving. </p>
<p> The ship’s doctor joined us for lunch – a very pleasant young chap about 30, who has this job as a vacation. He is a research laboratory man in Hamburg – quite good-looking and very agreeable – and he speaks English quite well. We took turns sitting next him. “Come on, Allen, sit next him and tell him about Zoology” or “Tell him about insects, Bequaert”. Rather a hard bill to fill.</p>
<p> This afternoon I wrote and helped Hal write his article on Admiralty Island until tea time. As we were having tea we looked out over the water to see flying fish skimming around – silver flashes with black wings which reflected the afternoon sun – and framed by the dark blue rolling waves. Yesterday the flying fish had silver wings but these have the black to make more brilliant their silver bodies.</p>
<p> And in the evening came my last dark room work. The water is now too warm to use even when ice is used to cool the developer.</p>
<p> Sunday – July 4<sup>th</sup>. HOORAY – and yet no celebration. The morning was spent in literary pursuit. Letters must be written in preparation for arriving in Freetown – diaries must be bought up to date, etc. The afternoon also passed in a similar manner, altho I did have a chance to play with Anita for an hour or so. But at supper we had the real festival. Mr. and Mrs. Mills joined us and we had a cocktail all around. Then into the dining-room. There we found an elaborate scaffolding on our table with snap crackers and American flags, ‘n’ everything. We really had a very pleasant dinner. The American flag had been made by the boatswain out of a bit of white tablecloth with red and blue crayons. It must have been quite a task and he did it very well indeed.</p>
<p> In the evening we sat around in the breeze and talked.</p>
<p> Monday – July 5<sup>th</sup>. More letter writing by all hands. They say that there will be an English boat at Freetown, Sierra Leone, which will take over our mail. Hence the feverish rush. </p>
<p> And so I will bring this letter to a close. We will be in Monrovia tomorrow and will settle down for two weeks’ activity before disappearing into the bush. I will write again before that time comes. </p>
<p> Give my best to all the family and write my occasionally.</p>
<p> Your loving son</p>
<p> LORING. </p>
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VAD2036-U-00040
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On board the S.S. Wadai, en route to Monrovia
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Loring Whitman
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June 19, 1926 - July 5, 1926
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Southampton, Hampshire County, England
Atlantic Ocean, S.S. Wadai
Tenerife, Canarias Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Area now known as: Tenerife, Santa Cruz de Tenerife Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Santa Cruz, Canarias Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Area now known as: Santa Cruz, Santa Cruz de Tenerife Province, Canary Islands, Spain
La Orotava, Canarias Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Area now known as: La Orotava, Santa Cruz de Tenerife Province, Canary Islands, Spain
Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Gran Canaria Island, Canarias Province, Spain
Area now known as: Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Gran Canaria Island, Las Palmas Province, Spain
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https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/12e08c66663a4245326dea6d1aee9e2b.pdf
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https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/2a01d8604a76de478b65a574390dfb3b.doc
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Mr. and Mrs. Whitman Jr.
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<p>Burlington Hotel, W.l</p>
<p>Finished Tuesday night</p>
<p>June 22<sup>nd</sup>, 1926.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dear Family; -</p>
<p> It is time that I should continue my narrative – the history of pleasure – for soon so many events will have been crowded into my life that I will be unable to remember or describe them.</p>
<p> I started to write before but on reading the first part I found it to be so illiterate that I was forced to throw it away and begin again.</p>
<p> The last you saw of me I was aboard the Mauretania – the party over – the guests gone – and the host weary – yes, very weary. I wandered along empty corridors, around barren decks, thru deserted libraries, lounges, and smoking rooms – seeking nothing – just restless. The few people I saw lay stretched – vacant – upon sofas, while here and there a couple would be talking in hushed monosyllables. I went out on deck where a leaden sun was boring thru the haze, casting a dull metallic glitter over the sea. Gone was the brilliant blue of the water at Cherbourg with its flashing diamonds and in its place an ever-rolling dull gray with its metallic lustre. I went aft – to the café – where Hal found me. We joined one of the few remaining damsels and had tea together. Still the party was very sleepy and conversation lagged frequently. Hal then left us to write some letters. So we wandered up to the bow to watch the shores of England slowly loom out of the haze. For a while we slipped along the coast before we finally entered the river. I felt as if we were some big prehistoric monster as we steamed along – on each side green lawns, not meadows, rolling down to the very water’s edge, while cool green trees dotted the landscape or formed barriers between the lawns. And guarding all this from the restless water was a neat stone embankment with an occasional tower. Small sail boats peeped up at us now and then before scurrying off like rabbits, while rusty, lumbering freighters drifted silently by on their way to other ports. The little red and black buoys which dotted our course looked more like match sticks than guardians of the channel. And over all lay a feeling of peace, of ageless, endless peace, which made me suddenly realize that I didn’t want to get off the ship.</p>
<p> But we did get off finally and gathered our many crates, boxes, bags, and trunks together, leaving everything in bond, so that the Customs was soon passed and we were seated in a little English train on our way to London. Tho’ late it was still very light as we rode along, looking out on green fields separated by hedges, - on thatched roofed cottages peeping from beneath trees, on mares and foals in luxurious grass – or perhaps on little slate “tenements” with a pinkish cast and little crooked chimney pots. Everything seemed as quiet and peaceful – no worry and bustle – ah – there was a little donkey with his cart. We lay back in our compartment and just drank it in (with a Tom Collins), saying little, yet – oh, well, I could never express my feelings.</p>
<p> And then came London – with its busy roar. We had to get the trunk off the van, so I stood guard over our dress suit cases. Peaple passed back and forth in front of me – some running – some slowly sauntering – some looking for friends – some evidently just meeting wives or fiancées – or maybe just friends. I stood alone, saying nothing, just watching. Behind me was an ingenious advertising device made of many rollers, of which I have shown a cross section. In one case at least 10 different advertisements could be shown over and over again. A little girl – maybe 8 – came tripping across the station to stare at it with awe. She had probably seen it many times before but the fascination of it still gripped her. </p>
<p> I notice one thing – the toilets are labeled “Gentlemen” instead of “Gents” or “Men” as they are at home. Perhaps that is one of the most fundamental differences between England and America.</p>
<p> We got a taxi – covered with shiney brass and well-groomed leather – to take us to the Burlington Hotel. We rushed thru busy streets, round corners, always on the wrong side – really a ghastly experience for the newly arrived traveller – to end up finally at a very quiet and simple hotel. On the way our driver nearly ran down a woman to whom we would have introduced us had we so desired, - a true man of the world. We got our rooms and enquired after the rest of the party only to find that they were still in Brussels and would not be back till Sunday. However, Theiller came around to see us and we learned the latest gossip. But we were tired – worn out, in fact, so we soon turned in to fall into a heavy sleep.</p>
<p> I am not going to catalogue the next few days or even try to describe them for they remain in my mind only as a dream – a vague impression of rushing from one end of London to the other, buying clothes. Theiller had us in tow so that we did not have to bother ourselves with where we were going. We wandered thru narrow streets, thru broad streets, past little squares and parks – we rode on busses, n taxi cabs, and underground. WE walked – and everywhere I felt as if I was invisible, intangible, slipping thru the busy street as an unseen spectator. And above all, I felt the endlessness of London. It was as if all direction was lost – no uptown or downtown no north, east, south, or west – no business and residential sections – no ordered traffic – just people trickling across streets while taxis, busses, motorcycles and wagons weave weird patterns as they filter thru the pedestrians.</p>
<p> As I have said, London has no direction. I never know which way to turn, for to me all ways are the same. I walk down a street and am always surprised to find myself at the right place. I could just as easily have walked in the opposite direction without knowing the difference. If I take the underground I ask which way I must turn, when once more I see the light of day and yet with its confusion London has its fascination. The taxis are of interest both to me and to the archeologist with their little motors and their brightly polished brass fittings. I was even reprimanded by a driver for resting my feet against the seat in front. Then there are the little wee automobiles which come peering out from beneath massive busses. Some of them are apparently of mixed ancestry having a distinct motorcycle caste of countenance. And the busses themselves are a monument of advertising. But aside from the transportation, there are the store windows – enough to make one gasp at the sheer volume of display – really there isn’t room left for a hairpin after they have finished cramming their wares into whatever free space that can be found. Canes lend themselves particularly to this form of sport and the final effect is truly overpowering. And lingerie (have I spelt it correctly?) tho not so formal when draped in every available corner lends a bazaar touch to the scenery.</p>
<p> But the service – truly remarkable. No hurry and bustle – just six or seven people doing their best to be courteous to you all at once and never together. By the time you have told the last one what you want and he has gone into consultation with his fellow workers you begin to wonder whether you really have remembered your original wants and at the same time whether you will be finished in time for dinner. And then finally there are the fashions. Am I right in saying that an Englishman never goes out without a stick and gloves yet never wears out the latter? I have not seen any worn yet, although I have not seen an Englishman that I could recognize who did not have them in his hand. I am going to buy a pair if I don’t leave soon.</p>
<p> But I must continue my narrative. I was waked Friday morning at 6 A.M. with tea and toast for breakfast which I ate in a leisurely fashion while dressing. Then into a taxi and off to the Hotel Victoria. It was cold and gray while a drizzling rain splashed down the pavements. But few people were stirring at that hour, and inside the hotel it was still dark and sleepy. A man and woman were talking quietly in one corner – another man was half asleep, sitting in a stiff chair. A bus drew up – a single for a restless stirring up of those waiting. We nodded to one another and stepped out thru the rain into the waiting bus. Then we were off to Croyden. The conversation was spasmodic – mostly about no breakfast and the early hour. Then complete silence. For half an hour we spattered along deserted streets until we finally drew up alongside some long, low buildings partially shrouded with mist. “Passports, please – Fill out this Card, please”, and we were ready. I sat and talked to a singer, Ursula Greville – very pleasant and absolutely confident of her own ability. “I am going to give a remarkable programme in Boston next Winter – you’d better ask your family to come hear”. She gave me a rather charming letter of introduction to a man in Mombassa – as follows –</p>
<p>“Dear Alick;-</p>
<p>Be kind to this youngster. He is on some sort of expedition and he reminds me of Draggil-in some queer way. Make his stay in Mombassa good, </p>
<p>Yours devotedly,</p>
<p>Ursula Greville.”</p>
<p> A door opened and a man dressed in leather entered and talked for a few moments to an official, and left. Then w were called. We slowly filed out of the room into the mist. No hurry – no excitement – just an every day event. We climbed into the waiting machine – “All ready? Yes.” There is a mighty roaring of motors – we start to move slowly, then with increasing speed – the ground flies by and imperceptibly we clear – a parting kiss and we off to Paris by aeroplane.</p>
<p> Ah – ha – the cat is out of the bag. I have been to Paris and back by air and honestly I am still gloating over the experience. As I have said, we lifted and then gave a final pat to the earth and were off. There was no lurch or sudden rising – just a slow steady climb to about 500 feet, at which height we banked sharply, swung over the flying field and settled on our course. I will quote from some notes I wrote in the plane on the back leaf of a book; -</p>
<p> “For one who has seen but little of England, I recommend flying, unless of course, one suffers from car sickness. I also endorse it as a cure for self-importance. As I sit here now constantly bumping and swaying I can see mile after mile of beautiful fields – blue greens, gray greens, yellow greens, and the rich brown of ploughed land beneath me, all divided into little squares. They seem little and separated one from the other by hedges. The trees appear round and woolly sheep are but white specks. I can see a windmill below us, slowly revolving – ah, there is a train – a thin wisp of cotton over a slowly creeping black thread. I can see a small thatch cottage with a small thatch barn nestling between trees beside a small pond. There is another with a garden behind and white pigeons are flying about its roof”.</p>
<p> And then came the channel with its little bobbing boats and infinitesimal white caps. It looks so quiet below. The coast of France came out of the haze. We flew for miles low down along the beach watching the fishermen or clam diggers playing their trade below us. We could see row after row of silly little breakers and the nets with which those diminutive specks were working. But soon we turned inland and again started the endless motion.</p>
<p> Fro the air there is a distinct difference between England and France. Gone are the little hedges and the fields are now bigger and merge almost imperceptibly one into the other, and everywhere are parallel lines, a thing foreign to England. Then, too, there are more trees and in places we flew over veritable forests. Every now and then we would run into a rain storm to pop out the other side into clear weather again. We passed over diminutive cities with their red tile roofs – again different from L’Angleterre – each with its old greystone church.</p>
<p> But at last the flying field appeared ahead and we were at the end of our journey. We circled around it until we were headed up wind, at the same time banking almost 90° - then the engines were cut off and we plunged down. The wings and straps hummed, the speed grew faster and faster and the ground fairly rushed up to meet us. We skimmed the tops of the hangars, still dropping, - then flattened out, a long coast and we oozed down onto the ground. No jar or drop, just a gentle transition. Really it was the most inspiring feeling. I’ve had in years and I would run any risk just to land again in that way.</p>
<p> I am afraid that very few people can appreciate my state of mind on entering Paris.My ears were still buzzing – my mind was still in a whirl from London and here I was in a foreign city with practically no knowledge of the language. I suppose if I was suddenly dropped on Mars overnight I would undergo the same sensation again. I deciced to call up Donia and get her to act as my guide and interpreter and at the same time have a very pleasant companion. However, I knew very little French and with the telephone as a medium I was completely lost. So, I gave up. I ordered a taxi and went address Donia have given me in case I should come to Paris. I arrived there to be greeted in French by the doorman, who assured me that I was in the right place though the Mll. Was out. But Mme. Was in. I went upstairs and ran the doorbell – would I be greeted in French by her friend or could she perhaps speak English. The door opened and Donia met me. I was relieved.</p>
<p> Now I have got myself into a very difficult position – for when a young man away from home flies to Paris to call on a young girl it looks extremely risqué, to say the least. However, he usually does not write home and tell his family about it. As it is, I am afraid that I cannot say that it was a pure accident altho I think that my reputation will not suffer in consequence. And I will admit that I could not have been introduced to Paris in a more pleasant way. To be sure, the majority of the time was spent shopping and trying to change American dollars into Polish money – still I probably saw more of Paris than a good many Americans do in two days.</p>
<p> The firs thing was to find a hotel for me to stay at. We were very successful and fortunate in finding one in an out of the way place where no English was spoken by anyone. At the same time there was running water in the room, nice curtains, and very clean. The price was 25 francs a day (about 75 cents). We then went over to the Crillon Hotel where I left mail I had brought over for Drs. Strong and Shattuck. They were out, however, so that I did not see them. We next got Donia’s tickets to Poland and being through the day’s work went back to Donia’s place for tea. Mm. Chadyoska, with whom Donia lives when in Paris, is a doctor and is extremely interesting as well as pleasant. She also speaks a little English so that I could talk with her with some understanding. Working from early dawn to late in the evening she never seems to lose her poise or calm appearance, altho to be sure she looks quite tired at times. I suppose she is about 50. </p>
<p> We had supper at Romano’s before going to the Moulin Rouge. The first was very nice, the second rather interesting. They do wear less than we are accustomed to see in the Follies but they do wear that little well. And it wasn’t as rough (so far as I could make out) as our New York plays. No bedrooms scenes for example.</p>
<p> The next morning I was confronted with the task of getting breakfast without a guide. Now, as you know, Parisians don’t eat breakfast so that most of the cafes were still closed. However, I found one wherein the head of the house was busy on top of a step ladder, fixing the lights while his better half was just commencing to scrub the floors. All the chairs were stacked on the tables. I told him that my command of French was distinctly limited but if he understood me I would like two eggs – a la plate – coffee and bread of some sort. He surprised me by asking me, without a smile, if I was Swiss. I beamed at him. While I ate he explained the reasons for his becoming an electrician and we chatted so far as my ability to speak and understand let us go. Then I thanked him and we parted. (I paid him, too.)</p>
<p> I had lunch with Donia in a little Polish restaurant over near the Latin Quarter, off the “Boule Miche”. We then got a taxi (after walking thru the Luxembourg Gardens) and asked the driver to take us through the narrow streets. He certainly was successful – down one alley and up another, through little squares and between sheer walls. Every now and then you could look through a door into some perfectly fascinating little court garden, completely shut off from the outside world. It was glorious and then we visited Notre Dam and La Chappele St. Germaine.</p>
<p> When we got back to Mme. Chadnynska’s it was about 6:00 and we had a late tea which successfully ruined our appetites. So, without supper, we went out to call on some of Donia’s friends- a Ruth Spofford, who went to Columbia and is now working in the immigration bureau before going to Geneva – and a Sonia ? – (a Polish girl who lived several years in America and is extremely pretty, as well as capable.</p>
<p> We stayed there for a while and chatted. Then we went up to Montematre. Mm. Chadnynska recommended “La Place du Gertre” and I am certainly glad that she did. It is a little open square with a gravel floor and a canopy of rustling leaves with branches. It is dotted with little tables, on each of which flickers a small kerosene lamp with an orange lamp shade. Orange beach umbrellas shelter each table. An orchestra consisting of a mandolin and a guitar was playing a mixture of weird and modern music. People were sitting around, some drinking, some eating, some absolutely oblivious of their surroundings, intent only upon one another. A group of students ate at a long table singing songs or drinking toasts, while an old man, a little full perhaps, sang French songs with a beautifully trained voice, about 55-60 perhaps with long gray hair and a twinkling eye, which constantly wandered over his audience. He swayed almost imperceptibly and trailed off into a really superb falsetto. We have him a franc, as did most of the rest. Everybody seemed oblivious to their surroundings, yet strangely conscious of their surroundings – an odd feeling. Men, women, even children (with their parents) were there – all cheerful, laughing, joking over their bottle of wine. Not a cross word or look.</p>
<p> And then occasionally some giant sight-seeing bus would come honking along, filled with Americans in straw hats, some of whom stood up that they might better see the wild night life of Paris. I suppose some of them will write books on it. And with the arrival of each bus, catcalls, jeers and whistles (a Parisian way of saying you are not wanted) came from the crowd. I felt like joining in.</p>
<p> We finally left – it was Donia’s first time there – and wandered home thru the narrow little streets of Montmatre. Well, I decided that I would do some graduate work in Paris after I finished the medical school.</p>
<p> But that ended my stay. I paid my hotel bill the next morning and in a rather jerky and hesitating manner told them that I was greatly pleased with the place. They gave me a card with the address etc. which I will show you.when I get home- Hotel Ideal – really a gem.</p>
<p> And then I said good-bye to Donia and Mme. Chadzynaka, who to be sure made my trip to Paris a complete success. Then off to the flying field and back to London.</p>
<p> On the place I met a Mr. Mitchell, who lives in Uganda, East Africa and wants us to look him up when we pass thru Kampala. We chatted about Africa and aviation whenever we could shout above the roar of the planes. The going was much less bumpy and the sun was shining thru holes in what proved to be a thin layer of clouds. Our pilot decided to get above them and started to climb up through – at first we sifted into the lower fringes but then, as if plunging into water, we disappeared into the thick almost sticky white fog. And then, almost as suddenly, we popped out into a brilliant sunny day , to float in majesty upon a billowy sea of cotton. The sun sparkled down upon the queer soft lumps, throwing them into relief, and nowhere could be seen a trace of the green earth below us. We were entirely detached from the world and all its bustle and were floating there upon a fairy sea of dewdrops. Still it was not for long, for soon nosing the plane down we plunged once more into white nothingness, to finally plane back into the realms of verdant fields and woolly trees.</p>
<p> The landing was just as exciting as before and just as beautifully executed. Really I think I would risk my neck anywhere just for the pleasure of that final plunge to earth. But here we were back in London, when we only first arrived there 4 ½ days ago. </p>
<p> Since then little has happened of particular interest. We have shopped, paid bills, and shopped some more. We have packed and we have loafed but we have done nothing that would really interest you all so I guess I am ready to stop letters and begin the official diary of the trip. We are all together here ready to be off tomorrow morning – all the trunks are packed and labeled – all bills are paid (I did a lot of them) and Bequaert has already gone to Southampton to see about getting all</p>
<p>(Last sheet mislaid)</p>
<p> </p>
Dublin Core
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VAD2036-U-00037
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Burlington Hotel, June 22, 1926
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Loring Whitman
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6/22/26
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Burlington Hotel, London, England
Paris, France
London, England
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https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/925bb70418c6c5fd611c7cfe3b8e2031.pdf
49dea3558bd854aa7855704fc1ddb938
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/9dd7e2101ff2caf46ba61509e4e0ed74.doc
963bafd5571d49c7b4650f8d6653d495
Historical Documents
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Mrs. William Whitman Jr.
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<p>VI</p>
<p>Written Sept 22</p>
<p>Mailed</p>
<p>Rec. Nov 1.</p>
<p>Mrs. William W</p>
<p>78 Chauncey St.</p>
<p>Boston, Mass.</p>
<p>U.S.A.</p>
<p>Gbanga, Liberia.</p>
<p>Sept. 22 - 1926<br /><br /></p>
<p>Dearest Family</p>
<p> This letter must needs be short as the messenger who carries this has just come up from Monrovia and is going back tomorrow. And as he was not expected I have not had a chance to write before – and must develop tonight in preparation for the trip to the coast. Still it will be the only chance to write until I get out in Monrovia the first week in November – so I will try to make the most of it.</p>
<p> First of all my health is excellent. The day I finished writing my last letter I had a sudden spurt of temperature which went up to 105.4 but the next morning it was normal and remained so from then on. And four days later I left Monrovia for the Du River (Firestone Plantations) where we had our first base camp. Being my first day out of bed for a week the launch broke down and we were only able to get as far as No. 2 by dark where we spent the night. And the next day it rained, as we vaccinated for smallpox some 300 natives, thanks to a reported smallpox case reported from there. Then up the Du to No. 3 by whaleboat, also in the rain.</p>
<p><Map of campsite></p>
<p>Shattuck X</p>
<p>Linder X</p>
<p>Allen X</p>
<p>Bequaert X</p>
<p>Storage X</p>
<p>Theiler X</p>
<p>Coolidge-Whitman XX</p>
<p>Photo X</p>
<p>Lab. XXX</p>
<p>Dining</p>
<p>Cook Tent</p>
<p>Strong XX</p>
<p> Our camp was on a very small, long, lean, knoll, which drained into a swamp on each side but which was dry when it didn’t rain all the time. Then we walked in mud. But after all it was mud anywhere and everywhere under those circumstances. And after a few days of fair weather it did rain almost two-thirds of every day so that toward the end the films did not dry over several days. The Lab. Where I developed was a poorly constructed roof stuck on four poles. In the evening I had to hold an umbrella over me while at work. In the daytime it was used for skinning monkeys and for Dr. Strong to look at slides under his microscope. As may be gathered, I used a tent to dry films in. Now as for activity – my day was largely curtailed at the start due to my recent sojourn in bed. In consequence, I puttered around camp in the A M, shooting a few birds, drying negatives, diary writing, etc. The afternoon was likewise occupied – tho I was never allowed to go far and needs must be at hand for pictures. After a couple of days, later, I was allowed to go off a mile or so collecting with Dr. Allen and that day I made my first specimen – a red and black weaver bird which I shot. It was a slow but encouraging job because it looked fairly well when I got through with it. Later I skinned some more. On the 9<sup>th</sup> of August I went for a 20-mile walk with Dr. Strong to Owens Grove on the Farmington R. and back. We passed several villages but the natives were all out in the fields or working for Firestone. Most of those left spoke English and were without interest. Owens Grove had a commissioner – 300 lbs. in khaki clothes and no shoes – very self-important. The trail to and from Owens Grove took us for the first time thru real tropical forest. Altho a bright sunny day practically none reached down to us and for a large part of the way we were in a dark, comparatively cool, tunnel. In one place we passed between and over moss-grown rocks. There are many vines and lianas so that you cannot see far, if at all, from the trail, which usually twists constantly. In some places the trail bed is good – in others it is a series of roots at irregular intervals. Owens Grove itself is a region of scrub second growth with large green mountain rice fields. These fields are always filled with stumps as the native method of clearing is like that on the Du – chop high and burn. In consequence, walking thru them while hunting means one bumped shin after another.</p>
<p> Two days later, Dr. Strong, Theiler, Allen, and I went over to Schofield’s place – No. 2, Sect. 4 – where there was a devil dance (in our honor for gin). I took 500 feet of movies and some stills. The dance itself was not too wonderful and I suspect it of being quite artificial. However, it was well worth seeing. First a devil dressed in long, flowing grass skirt, a small jacket, and a mask danced. He continually chatted and talked in a high voice as tho his mouth were full of pebbles. His dance was an irregular stamping or gliding here and there in his clearing, punctuated by sitting down and waving his arms. The audience laughed at his wit. Next came a Giebo dance in which some 15 men painted yellow and black (they were all different) followed the leader in a long slow trot in and out of the arena or through the town. At times they were so interwoven that one suspected ones eyes of being queer. One chap had a pot of coals draped in leaves for a headdress. Another had no headdress, and was a born clown. After that a boy danced on stilts and a little devil bounced around – probably a joke but at least active.</p>
<p> As for the rest – Dr. Allen spent a large part of his time skinning animals and birds others shot for him. He either sat in the depths of his tent or at the dining table when it was not in use. Otherwise, when free, he went off shooting – sometimes with me when I was given more freedom. But most of the time it was skin birds, monkeys, rats, which he trapped, and sundry other odds and ends, such as pickling snakes, frogs, chameleons, etc. Dr. Shattuck dressed ulcers, etc., paid boys chop money and looked after their wants, and occasionally shot birds for Dr. Allen – his specialty being hornbills. Dr. Bequaert was always at work helping Linder dry and collect plants, catching, labelling, and “boxing” insects, soldering tin boxes of plants and animals, etc. Linder went out plant collecting every A.M. occasionally bringing in a bird or two, or possibly a frog or snake, etc. In the afternoon he was completely occupied by putting his flowers in presses and drying them. Theiler is at work most of the day looking thru his microscope at odds and ends of things. I say that because no animal, reptile, or mammal, bird or amphibian escapes the insect search of Bequaert, or the blood smears of Theiler. He is also busied examining the 200 blood smears made from humans as a survey of the malaria, etc. in the districts entered. Every afternoon from 2-3 he reads in his hut. Hal is usually busied getting out food supplies or cleaning his guns, or rather trying to persuade the gun boys to do it right. When not so busied he was out hunting monkeys or writing his diary. Dr. Strong is usually looking thru his microscope either in his tent or in the lab in case it doesn’t rain.</p>
<p> We have a very formal party really – that is, Dr. Strong is trying to make it so by punctuality at meals and very polite “Good Mornings” and “How is your healths”, etc. The rest of us are not being dragged up too rapidly.</p>
<p> As for the natives – at No. 3 there were none that lived there outside of the laborers and we didn’t see them except medically. And, as I said before, it rained most of the time so that one’s life was endangered when walking about camp, due to the slipperiness of the mud.</p>
<p> And then one bright morning I packed up my films, still wet, and we started – Dr. Strong, Dr. Bequaert, and I for our next base camp, with 140 porters and about one-half the stuff. As for the country, it was very similar to that on the way to Owens Grove. The porters carry on their heads and make surprisingly good time with my photo chemicals, which are about as heavy as any of the loads. Some, heavier, are converted in two-men loads, which are carried on poles on the shoulders or head, tho the first is more common. When they first started they were very cheerful and sang as they went tho later in the day that passed off and the change from clearing fields to carrying loads did not seem so attractive as at first. We stopped at Lango town – a small village of about 15 huts mostly occupied by a couple men and many women and children. We slept in an open building like a mud bathtub with a thatched roof. It was just about big enough for our three beds and a small table in the middle. We paid off our porters – 1/6 each and had a swim – the first since leaving home – in a small stream. Then we stayed there three days due to lack of porters. Bequaert, as usual, worked away collecting while I dried films, shot and skinned a couple of birds and a squirrel, and took some more pictures. Dr. Strong examined some of the natives and made scrapings and blood smears. On the second day Theiler arrived reporting all well behind.</p>
<p> The people at Lango town were very agreeable and indolent, supplying us with some food but no porters. They were interested in us but did not crowd us as we have been crowded. The young kids go naked – the older boys and girls wear a scant loin cloth – the girls adding a loose string of beads. The men wear odds and ends from a shirt and trousers to a toga like cloth altho when at work a loin cloth wrapped around the waist, being uncovered down to the waist. Beads are worn around the neck and scarification is common over the arms, breasts, and stomach. The women carry most of the family goods including water on their heads – their young children on their backs in their skirts as is very crudely shown in the sketch. <Drawing of woman with child on her back and pestle> They also grind up the rice in big mortars with a log as a pestle and “winnow” it in a broad fat, basket tray, getting the coarsely ground rice separated from the finely ground meal. Otherwise they do little. At Lango town there was a very good-looking and well built young girl, whom we nicknamed Rose of Washington Square. In the early morning she went down to the stream for water and again in the evening, returning with a white bucket on top of her head. Very picturesque.</p>
<p>On the 15<sup>th</sup> we moved on – Dr. Strong first and I later when more porters came in. Our destination was Kakatown which we reached in good time. Kakatown is a fairly, large place with more pretentious buildings. At Lango town the people lived in smaller, white mud, thatch roofed houses, two of which had porches. In Kakatown they had bigger houses, bungalow size, tho of the same construction. Kakatown is in a region of scrub bushes, second growth, and is hot and comparatively uninteresting. What is more, we were continually under the scrutiny of one Daniel Walker, Paramount chief, and one of the richest natives in Liberia, according to hearsay. They base wealth here as elsewhere by the number of wives, it being legal for gov’t. officials to have two – and natives as many as they want.</p>
<p> Daniel Walker has many wives – 15 or so young girls in his own house and the older ones, once his favorites, scattered here and there thru the town. Some say the total is 300 but Quien Sabe? He has plenty. He is a big, portly man about 60, with a great deal of shrewd character in his face. A tyrant with his people, bleeding the white man where possible. He has worked his way up the scale, is also a miser as well as a robber. He and his secretary, Johnson, sat on the porch of their house and watched us like cats, and at any time of day, breakfast thru supper they dropped in to ask for some gift or other, usually gin. When offered a cigaret they took six and reached for more. They asked for our shoes, trunks, boxes, etc. and nothing escaped their gaze – everything was wanted. The secretary, Johnson, was more of a parasite and had less character tho I am sure that he would have double crossed his chief had opportunity knocked. When we paid the porters thru Walker we had to count the 6-pence into his hand as twice he pocketed a couple and said we had only given him 20 instead of 22, etc. A great pair they made.</p>
<p> We stayed in Kakatown 10 days. Dr. Strong dressed ulcers and made blood smears from several patients which he examined. At the same time he had a nice fever which finally put him to bed for a day. For about a week he ran a temp. between 100 and 102°. We also got word that Linder had fever at NO. 3 and Theiler at Lango town with a temp. at 104°. Bequaert joined us after two days and the three of us worked away. I shot and skinned seven birds of various species and spent a certain part of the time shooting pigeons for “chop”, as they call eating. I also set up photographic shop and developed about 600 feet of movies and a few, 60 or so, 4 x 5 pictures. One day I went with Dr. Strong to Bunda, about a half hour’s walk from Kaka, to find it essentially the same only again with smaller houses. But most of the time it rained – in 12 days we had one hour’s sun – 30 minutes one day, 30 another – so by the end of my stay I was good and sick of the place. Also, the boys made merry too much and became more or less useless. After eight days Coolidge, Allen, and Linder arrived, followed the next day by Theiler and Shattuck – all well and ready to go. And soon we did go – Strong, Shattuck, Coolidge, Linder, and Theiler first – Dr. Allen, Bequaert and I the next. The day the first bunch left I went collecting all afternoon with Allen, getting more than enough birds to keep us busy till night.</p>
<p> Kakatown is on the main high road which runs from Monrovia to Gbanga – where we are now parked. The road is quite straight and in places, where there are no swamps, <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">they</span> it is very good and could easily be travelled by an auto except for the bridges. These are made of three logs lengthwise with a cross network of rather small poles about the size of the thumb and then covered with dirt or left bare, as they see fit. And it was along this road that we travelled from then on. 20 miles in five hours, 45 minutes brought me to Memmelis town where I caught up with the rest in time for church. Memmelis town is also in the second growth and, as we subsequently found, most of the regions we have entered so far. We were again in a big open building – eight of us – with room for a table, too. But there was little doing at Memmelis except one bright, sunny day to dry our outfits. By that time all leather was rotting and at least four kinds of mold could be found in every box and on shoes, in helmets, etc. So we used the whole day just to dry out boxes, clothes, films, cameras, etc. and a profitable day it was, too. I also got some pictures of a panyolin or scaly anteater, which had been brought in at Lango town. Then off again on Saturday, the 28<sup>th</sup> of August, for Reppuestown. This was a short day but thanks to the rainy season rivers were well over their banks and in one place we had to wade 100 yards up above our knees and even to our waists to get to the bridge. At Reppues we spent the Sabbath idling in the rain. Dr. Shattuck fixed “Belly humbug him too much” etc. There was a large run on calomel. Dave and I walked out to another town, Cheneakomo, where we formed the centre of an admiring, or at least interested, crowd of spectators – mostly female. But it was uninteresting and quite dirty, so we returned to headquarters.</p>
<p> At Reppues we noticed a lot of decoration in charcoal which has subsequently been common. It takes place of cicatrization and is based on cat whiskers on the face. There are also marks on the stomach, breast, and arms but the most characteristic feature is the thin lines, usually three, extending from the upper lip. Reppues town itself is mainly small cylindrical houses with a narrow door and thatched roofs, which are closely packed together. The houses are about 15 feet in diameter. Outside the town was a rather neat coffee plantation with blossoms smelling like orange blossoms. It is quite common to pass thru patches of this fragrance near the towns, especially near the coast.</p>
<p> The next jump – to Miamu- was short – about three hours and for the first time we got into woods again, which was a relief. Real trees to look at for a change from scrub bushes and raffia palm. Miamu, however, is merely a military headquarters and the town is comparatively nil. We slept on the porch of a house. While there I got a couple of birds which I skinned out – forest birds for a change – but otherwise there was little doing during our short stay. Shattuck joined us at Miamu leaving Bequaert still to come with the remainder, Strong Allen, and Coolidge in the meantime had been keeping a day ahead of us so that we were pretty well scattered. Of course, when you realize that we have need for about 240 porters you see why we are split up.</p>
<p> From Miamu to Zeanshu was a long hard day with forest and downpours all morning to soak us and the hot, open road and sun to bake us all afternoon. But when we got to Zeanshu we were in the land of lotus eaters. Shattuck stayed behind a Miamu to wait for Bequaert. At Zeanshu we noticed a good deal of charcoal design but otherwise nothing new except that the natives stood in rows watching us wash, change our clothes, etc. Some sat on the walls to get closer. And food just poured in – eggs, pumpkins, bananas, palm wine, plantains, yams, and even cucumbers. A land of luxury in which we gave out many 6 d’s. But the palm wine had no kick in it and next morning Linder and I were on the road again with 60 porters. Again it poured and again it fried us so that by 2 o’clock we were ready to crawl in a hole and die. So we stopped at a town called Bunta and had hot soup, bananas, crackers and cheese for lunch and a rest thru the noon sun. Then on again to Sua Koko. Here we had a audience during our stay three deep on our walls, shutting out all light and air. Of course, when bathing with a gallery on four sides modesty must be laid aside. Still at times it is annoying to have absolutely no privacy. The morning I left, we drove the gallery away to better see our food and where before we had been warm we were forced to put on sweaters. While I am about it – the natives sleep in walled houses but there are usually one or more open sided houses used as courtrooms or kitchens as the people see fit. We have slept in those, both for the cool breezes and the added cleanliness. Sua Koko has a woman chief about 80 years old, nearly blind and looking very much like an overgrown maggot. But she rules her land with an iron hand and is still as powerful as the best of them. She told Dr. Strong, thru our interpreter, that she liked white men – they brought plenty of gin and tobacco as gifts or “Dash” as they call it here. I took some pictures but not having any gin she was not too sociable.</p>
<p> And then 3 hours more with 68 porters and I was in Gbanga (pronounced Banga), leaving Dave in Sua Koko, where he was joined by Shattuck, Theiler, and Bequaert. And that is the travelling. They came up two days later – on Monday, Sept. 6<sup>th</sup> – and we were again settled. 25 days from the Du River and only about 80 miles covered.</p>
<p> Gbanga is the headquarters for Mr. Clarke, the District Commissioner of District No. 2. We are in a large fenced-in compound and are occupying a huge open-sided building with the customary roof. Out behind is a big house which is the kitchen and just to one side is a round building which I have converted into a dark room. It really is the D.C.’s office but I have used it in his absence. The other buildings are residences for the D.C. and etc. Our big house is in the center and we have set up 4 tents in front – 2 behind. Hal, Dr. Allen, and I sleep in the big shack which is really our work room. We had some benches built for us where we are continually at work. <Drawing of living arrangements in Gbanga. </p>
<p> <Drawing of interior of sleeping arrangements in Gbanga> Gbanga has fairly large town connected with it, a dual town in that there is the local inhabitants and then a Mandingo section, both with chiefs, altho the former is <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">more</span> over the latter. The latter people, however are much higher class and more industrious. They do a lot of weaving and make the cloth into typical Mandingo garments of blue and white stripes. It is a <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">square</span> low-necked smock with a square pocket at the throat. There are usually no sleeves. The cotton is first de-seeded by scaping it (and by tooth) and then it is put on a spindle which is spun by rubbing it along the thigh. The thread is then wound onto sticks placed 3 – 15 feet apart and re-wound onto sticks before putting on the <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">shuttle bobbin</span>. The loom is an affair made of poles with only a simple pattern of ordinary <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">cross</span> checkerboard style. It is controlled by the feet. The warp is hitched to a big rock which is slowly dragged nearer and nearer. The cloth – 3” – 4” wide – is rolled onto a stick as it is made until the end of the warp is reached. And usually they only weave a blue and white longitudinal strip sometimes with a blue woof to give a slight check to the cloth. Otherwise there is no new industry. However they have a market, on the order of an open air fair. All the people gather bringing in their goods, plantains, corn, yams, oranges, bananas, etc. brightly colored civilized cloth from the French border, mirrors, etc. Tobacco is the medium of exchange and nobody can buy or sell before a given word. They are first harangued as to what should be cheap, etc. Thencomes a pig pile and mad scramble among people squatting around half (calabashes) or dishes filled with “farm produce”. (gourds)</p>
<p> Another thing we have seen here is the native dance. One was staged for us in return for gin but was not very good. However it inspired the Mandingos to rivalry and stirred them into a dance of their own which we watched. It is not very exciting but is more graceful than I had expected – 15 or 20 women converging, then spreading, with swaying bodies, in the moonlight, as they went round in a circle.</p>
<p> Since I have been here I have developed over 2000 feet of movies, bringing my total to 4500 developed and 500 more taken. I have also finished 500 negatives. Both these figures are well below estimate but at least they show industry. When not taking pictures or waiting for medical cases to turn up I have been collecting and skinning for Dr. Allen or helping him skin the few antelopes, etc. we have got so far. Today, in fact, I shot and skun a francolin - like a pheasant with its tail lost – and I am exceedingly proud of my job. Yesterday I skinned out the head of a Duiker Hal had skinned. By that, I mean, Hal skinned the animal while I, next A.M. skinned out the ears, lips, etc. and cleaned off the excess meat, etc. That gives, I think an idea of the life <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">we</span> I lead.</p>
<p> All of us are busy here. Dr. Strong is at his microscope from 7:00 A.M. till 4:00 P.M. Theiler is doing likewise. Dave and Dr. Bequaert are collecting from morning till night, and Dr. Allen is continually at work skinning or collecting. Hal has been hunting when not handling all the mean little tasks which the rest slide onto him such as running chop or arranging for porters, etc., and doing it well. Dr. Shattuck dresses arms, legs, etc. from 6:00 to 6:00.</p>
<p> The hunting here is poor as the bush is too thick for a booted white man to move silently thru. In consequence we employ native hunters with cap guns, who have brought us 3 duikers, several monkeys, and just recently a doe and fawn Royal Antelope. This is very rare and is only 10” high and about 14” long – a perfect miniature. Still outside farm rats and squirrels, etc. our mammals are still few, due to the difficulties of hunting in this country. Altho we are still in the centre of the second growth, there is a large patch of “Big Bush” in front, in which trees 200 feet high rear their heads, with vines clinging to their very tops as though trying to drag them down, and thru these monkeys play occasionally.</p>
<p> As for side trips – we have made but one. Dr. Strong, Shattuck, and I went up to the French border, 40 miles by trail, about 25 straight, to see if we could reach grass land but outside of 80 miles in 4 days we found little of interest. The same towns, though smaller, the same kind of people, the same black and tan goats, the same brown and white, thin, big-eared terriers perpetually kicked and perpetually hungry – the same non-egg-laying, half bantam chickens – the same Muscovy ducks – and at Garnu, our destination, the same government compound. And it was damned hot walking too in the tropical sun. On our way we met <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">the men</span> a gang of men road building – about 150 of them. First, they cut the woods and remove the stumps. Then they build up the road by digging holes at the side with pointed sticks. This dirt is then carried in little slat baskets to the road, where it is patted down by a row of 15 men listlessly letting flattened sticks fall on it. All is to the accompaniment of a churn so that the hole diggers pick very other beat in unison, while the animated steam rollers pat on every beat. They also sing – one man in high voce , “blah-blah-blah-blah” as though he were telling a bubbling story in song, then a chorus of “Ua/ua\ua – ua/us\ua/.” It really is quite a sight with all in time.</p>
<p> Speaking of time, practically anyone here can beat a drum as well as any orchestra drummer at home and they have a variety of drums. One instrument, a gourd in a a bead collar, is particularly good. The gourds has a handle while the cords supporting the beads are held in the other hand. <Drawing of gourd with bead collar> The variety of tunes they can get is fascinating. They also have drums shaped like a diabolo with string between the two drum heads which his carried under the arm. By squeezing the pitch can be altered. <Drawing of diabolo></p>
<p> There are two kinds of harps – one with strings held horizontal – the other with strings vertical. <Three drawings of harps> This music is largely repetition of a series of simple notes with a a base running thru it. Accordions, when present, are popular and are handled in the same way as a theme and as a base over and over again. <Drawings of dots and dots connected with a line> But one drum – a Mandingo drum – consisted of two large calabashes floating in water, which gave a wonderful tone with deep resonance. These are of different size and sounded like kettle drums. <Drawings of Mandingo drum></p>
<p> But we are near the end. First of all, Liberia is well settled. Secondly, is is well civilized as far as black people go. Thirdly, the government has it in its grasp right to the border and is not as we first thought, only limited to the coast. Where we are now, men work without pay and without food on the roads and without a whimper. There are no cannibals, unless it should be a person diseased from natural causes. In fact, it is a tame country. And it is remarkably healthy, too. We find plenty Schistosemiasis, hookworm, ascaris, and on the coast, malaria, but not inland. There is also plenty of tropical ulcer but the death rate seems to be low and there is little of a malignant nature. Tonight we are having a clinic of microfilaria which, being nocturnal in their habits, are best studied at night. These are microscopic blood parasite worms.</p>
<p> And there are not wild animals, lions and tigers, to maul us. There are some leopards but always a week away. There are bush cow (wild buffalo) but we do not shoot them. Still I have seen them freshly killed – I mean one.</p>
<p> Yes, it is a comparatively healthy country to travel in. And our temperatures run in the rainy season from 70 to 80° With now a range of from 75-85 as the rains are vanishing. Our days now are largely sunny with thunderstorms in the evening but not violent. In fact, it is very pleasant except directly in the sun, where it is about 122° at noon.</p>
<p> And yesterday we got mail, which was a great pleasure. I got one letter from Mother, one from William, and one from Peg mailed in Lepisic, but I have lost all mail written between the first of July and the 15<sup>th</sup> of August so that casual mention of K. and her son comes as quite a pleasant surprise and I wish her the best of luck and my heartiest congratulations.</p>
<p> Please excuse this as it has been written extremely hastily and with not much coordination. I hope that you can get some idea of the country and its people as well as our life. I will cable you when I get out to Monrovia as well as send my diary, which at present is only two weeks behind.</p>
<p> But I must stop now. My best love to you all and I hope that you will all be able to get something out of this.</p>
<p> Yours loving son</p>
<p> Loring </p>
<p>We expect to leave Monrovia in the middle of November, getting out to the coast of Liberia the end of October.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>------</p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Dearest Family, September 22, 1926
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Loring Whitman
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
August 2, 1926 to September 11, 1926
Identifier
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VAD2036-U-00044
Coverage
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Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Owens Grove, Grand Bassa County, Liberia
Farmington River, Liberia
Du (Dukwia) River, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 1, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 1, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 2, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2 Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 3, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 4, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Lenga Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Margibi County, Liberia
Kaka Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Kakata, Margibi County, Liberia
Memmeh Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Memmeh Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Reppue's Town, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Bong County, Liberia
Miamu, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Maimu, Bong County, Liberia
Zeanshue, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Zienzu, Bong County, Liberia
Suah Koko, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Suakoko, Bong County, Liberia
Gbanga, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Gbarnga, Bong County, Liberia
Boats
Camps
Cartography
Clothing & dress
Diseases
Drawings
Food
Houses
Leisure
Luggage
Performances
Rubber plantations
Specimens
Villages
-
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/8b1c0f7848cea075c960fa8c0bfe1dad.pdf
0fb03869258f779cf9c77e3bf67d593f
https://liberianhistory.org/files/original/e41444f4a89ac473eefadddf6c71f860.doc
821aa6ec6f63d18f70418caaa0dc8069
Historical Documents
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
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Letter
To
The name(s) and email address(es) of the person to whom the email was sent
Mrs. William Whitman Jr.
Text
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<p>William Whitman Jr.</p>
<p>78 Chauncy Street</p>
<p>Boston, Mass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Boston.Mass</p>
<p>Aug 25</p>
<p>8-PM</p>
<p>1926</p>
<p> </p>
<p>V</p>
<p>Written July</p>
<p>Mailed July 29</p>
<p>Received Aug 24.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. William Whitman Jr.</p>
<p>Yacht Saracen</p>
<p>c/o Eastern Yacht Club</p>
<p>Marblehead, Mass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[Received Aug. 24 3 weeks + 3 days from time of signing]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dearest Family:</p>
<p> I started to write a letter the other day to mail before I left Monrovia but as I was writing it I found that I was not to leave until Tuesday instead of Friday as scheduled. In consequence I was forced to unpack all my photographic outfit and personal clothes for another five days. It was quite a blow.</p>
<p> My last letter was dashed off in order to get in into the mail in time for the boat and I am afraid that it was pretty illegible toward the end. It was a relief to get out of town for those two days and actually get out into the bush for I must admit that Monrovia has very little to offer in the way of entertainment and of course it was my first trip on a really tropical river. On its lower stretches it is flanked by wall of palm fronds – solid walls which wave in the breeze – not trees growing but just a mass of leaves growing out of the water, and in places were scattered mangroves altho they were soon left behind. As we worked further upstream, the scenery slowly changed – the palms grew into trees, the whole vegetation became taller and took on the rich tropical green. Vines became more frequent and soon we began to pass giant silk cotton trees, tremendous things towering 150 ft. or more, with straight gray trunks which send out massive horizontal branches as they near the top. And as we progressed further the huge trees came closer and closer to the water in some places completely overhanging the stream and the vines dropping from their tops all the way into the water screen off completely in spots the jungle behind.</p>
<p> The river is extremely twisty – in one place, for example, there is a cut off less than 100 yds. Long which saves 20 minutes travel on the river in the launch. You always are going around right angle bends so that your vision is quite limited. Here and there we passed dugout canoes loaded with an entire family and produce either silently paddling or drawn up along the side of the stream waiting for us to pass. And occasionally little landing places where a few naked, or nearly naked, men, women and children stood in the deep shade of the jungle to watch us pass. We also met three of the big whale boats being rowed up stream by steaming blacks – rice going up to the plantations.</p>
<p> In case I didn’t describe the plantations, I will say a few words about them now. They are huge clearings at present through which are scattered half burnt logs and stumps. The system of clearing is as follows: first, they fell the trees, every one of them, cut <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">all </span>with axes. It is quite impressive to hear the men at work yelping (so it sounds) from one to another all the time. When a tree is ready to all the yelps increase and when it crashes to the ground with a roar like thunder the chorus becomes almost deafening. It is really quite impressive. These trees are now stripped of their branches which are packed to the ground that they may burn better. Then when they are dry the whole mass is burnt in one big fire. What trunks and stumps are left are removed by <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">time</span> rot and insects. In this way since November they have cleared several thousand acres on each of the three divisions we visited. No. 1, where we spent the night, is the largest, about 4000 acres, while No. 3, where we are to say, is the smallest and the chopping is near at hand. At each Division there is a bungalow on stilts – usually on some barren knoll near the center where a long white man stays in charge of the division. No. 1 is the only one on which they have set out any trees, little spikes now which in five years will begin to yield latex. </p>
<p> Coming down the river we saw two crocodiles, a few monkeys and birds of all descriptions, steel blue swallows with a white patch on their throats, kingfishers with orange bellies and breasts and iridescent blue backs; slate gray warbler- like birds which hopped from vine to vine always just above the water; huge awkward hornbills, croaking in the lofty treetops; and an occasional white and black eagle perched on some dead stub or soaring majestically in the air. And just as we were nearing Duport we shot at, with no apparent damage, a beautiful cinnamon colored teal with bright pale blue patches on his wings.</p>
<p> And that takes us up to my last letter. Since then we have done much and accomplished little. From a medical standpoint we have found one excellent case of Bilharzia (you can look it up) a parasite which lodges in the small veins of the bladder and lays eggs which penetrate into it. In consequence blood in the urine is a symptom. This patient showed microscopically not only the eggs but the hatched ciliated trematodes. These pass into a certain kind of snail in which they change into adult form when they again pass out into the water and are ready to burrow thru the skin of any luckless bather. Another thing we found was a nematode which kills cocoanut palms. It is one of two animal parasites which are known to affect plants and as far as we know it will be the first time that it has been described from Africa. We have also found malaria parasites in the monkey which I shot, another new find so far as we know. </p>
<p> To continue chronologically – We had dinner at Mr. Bussell’s on Wednesday night (July 14<sup>th</sup>) the day I last wrote. He is a very pleasant broad faced Virginian who is in charge of customs here and, on the side, on the big government wheels as far as the U.S.A. is concerned. His wife, who came to Liberia in February to marry him is also extremely pleasant. She came out here against all her family’s wishes – of course they had no animosity toward Bussell – but rather dreaded the country. They showed us several small statuettes, some native spears and a native harp. This is shaped as follows <Drawing of a native harp> with a half gourd for a base which is placed against the chest as a sound box. The strings are then held horizontal when played.</p>
<p> Thursday (15<sup>th</sup>) was largely spent in unpacking as we have just got our supplies through the customs. We also interviewed numerous boys who came with recommendations for steward boys. Of course I suspect veracity of many employers and I also suspect that the bearer is not always the boy for whom the recommendation has been written. Still, what can you do? As Hal’s and my boys had both been sacked in the morning we took on a gun and camera boy respectively to act as stewards for our stay here. Later we found that Hal’s gun boy was distasteful to others already hired and that he had been in jail twice for stealing – so he is no longer with us. And although Gaybar (pronounced Gebber) is good I suspect him of being a little too sophisticated for the bush in the rainy season. However, he is intelligent and thoughtful. In the evening I did my first developing which came out successfully and the negatives dried by the next noon even though it rained hard all night long. </p>
<p> Friday 16<sup>th</sup> we continued to repack – a whole morning spent running up and down stairs, opening trunks and dividing the outfit up into various lots to go, not to go and doubtful. We have brought a good deal more than we need and our transport system is going to be awkward enough as it is without adding extra men for unnecessary luxuries.</p>
<p> In the afternoon Hal and I paid some bills down town and I called on Farmer where I chatted for about an hour. He is a very agreeable slow self confessed tramp who hoped to get a job with much title and no work. He got six titles or so and is now bored to death because there is nothing to do. He has gone down to Grand Bassa to build a government warehouse and he says he is going to take as long as he can for he may not get another job for a long time and he wants to make this one last. In the evening I again developed, this time movies, with fair success and much effort. It comes easier now that I have practiced more.</p>
<p> Saturday (17<sup>th</sup>) was <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">a further</span> spent once more packing and this time we really could see a little daylight after the morning was over. Hal’s and my room which had been a mass of guns, tin trunks, cameras, tripods, duffle bags, etc. has now cleared slightly and we don’t have to continually hurdle the many obstacles as we walk across the room.</p>
<p> After lunch, the chief, Dr. Shattuck, Dr. Willis (our host) and I went forth in search of congo town, a village supposedly made up of congo slaves whose chief virtue is a high rate of degeneracy. We set out in Mr. Ross’ car – a Dodge sedan – with a colored driver who didn’t know that second speed was used on hills. In consequence he would run as far as possible in high, slipping his clutch toward the end to get more speed out of the motor. Then on would go the brakes, the car might or might not stall, and we would go into low speed. He also had the ability to magnify absolutely every bump, and he never missed a hole in the road if he could find it. When we got to congo town we found a neat little village of thatch topped mud huts but no people. We were directed to another one further on. And this new one was wrong, and so on. We visited three congo towns, non of which were right, until we found that the true place had originally been the one we first visited but had long since been abandoned though kept up by the road gang for appearance’s sake. We stopped at the Mt. Barclay (Firestone) rubber plantation where we found our Bilharzia patient. </p>
<p> The rubber trees are very surprising. First they are spaced in even rows so that they always appear in lines, secondly, there is no undergrowth. Thirdly, they look remarkably clean and neat. Fourthly, they are about 40 feet tall and slender, looking very much like a cross between a young maple tree with the shape of a birch tree though with less branches. This plantation originally belonged to an English concern whom the government ran out of business by raising the tax to six-pence a pound when the sales value was the same. In addition they wanted sixpence a pound for all the former rubber which had only been taxed at threepence. Firestone now rents the land from the government at a ridiculously low figure. Of course the government tried first to run it but failed. We met Mr. Piggot, in charge, a thin Scotsman in shorts with heavily tatooed arms.</p>
<p> We had dinner with the Hines, a large affair with fourteen present. The hors d’oeuvres were a meal in themselves. After the meal we sat around and talked or danced to the tune of a very squeaky victrola placed round the corner. And, of course, the floor was only rough porch planking. Bed at 1.30.</p>
<p> Sunday 18<sup>th</sup> The laboratory was in session this morning studying the specimens from the Bilharzia patient. We also did some more crating of chemicals and medicines, which for me finishes my packing except my clothes, and I assorted them. In the afternoon Dr. Strong and I went out to collect some leaves from a cassava patch which we saw was blighted. When we got back I took pictures of the leaves, both sick and healthy. After that Dr. and Mme. Bonet came in for tea and I had to accompany her songs on the uke. She knows not only most of the American songs but also the words for them. She has a very high soprano voice which is quite good. Once more I developed till 12, got 40 negatives done however.</p>
<p> Monday 19<sup>th</sup> After puttering round packing away negatives or making rather poor sunprints, I went out to take pictures of pawpaw trees, breadfruit trees and other vegetation which the chief wants.</p>
<p> The afternoon was spent, or most of it, in Krutown, the native settlement if you could call it that when most of Monrovia is black too. The Kru boys are probably the best known negroes on the west coast and are by far the most travelled, working up and down the coast on the freighters. We descended upon the town armed with cameras to take their pictures. As soon as we got there we were surrounded by a crowd of little naked savages from the cradle up of both sexes and all ages. They danced about in front of the cameras as merrily as you please and we took movies of them. But when we wanted to film the streets, they continued their antics making it almost impossible. While we were still on the beach taking the kids as they raced for us or jumped over dugout canoes, a great big 6’2 buck nigger in a blue cloth draped about him like a toga came out brandishing a club. Evidently a head man trying to restore order I had already put my camera away but, at a wink from the chief, I got it out while he called to the retreating man. As he came back and expostulated with the chief I took his movie. Then Hal and I, like two pied pipers, led a parade of kids thru Krutown, at least 50 of them, whom we could not shake in any way. Every time we lifted our cameras they darted in front and danced up and down before us. One old lady came out brandishing a knife – but she danced for us. Two girls working with huge wooden mortars fled as we started the machinery. And so it went until the crowd became too boisterous and all picture taking must needs cease.</p>
<p> We returned to the House, got Dr. Strong and went out to visit the cocoanut palm grove near the French wireless station. The chief was out for this before mentioned nematode and, sure enough, after an hour examining trees, we finally chopped one down which subsequently yielded the little round worms which, though microscopic, clog the circulation of the trees.</p>
<p> Hal and I had dinner with Mr. Farmer. It was a very pleasant evening, chatting about Liberia and Africa in general, Monrovia and ourselves in particular.</p>
<p> Tues 20<sup>th</sup> Mr. Ross, the general manager of the Firestone plantations Co. in Liberia, and Mr. and Mrs. Hines arrived to take us out to the Mt. Barclay plantation. I took some pictures and a movie of a boy climbing a tree which was subsequently shown to be pas bon pour la moose. We visited the <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">smoke house</span> factory where they first pour the rubber either into big boxes partitioned off or into trays. The first coagulate in slabs like bacon and about the same size which is then smoked until I am sure that it could be passed off as bacon to a near sighted person. The stuff in trays, on the other hand, is pressed into white thin mats which when smoked are almost transparent. Of course, before smoking, they are a rich creamy white.</p>
<p> In the afternoon, Dr. Allen, Bequaert, Linder and I drove out the Duport Road to collect flowers and take a few pictures which took us till about 4.00, and in the evening, more developing.</p>
<p> Wed 21<sup>st</sup>. Dr. Shattuck, Theiler, and Hal and I went aback to Kru town to make a medical survey of all the children available. The system is as follows: We set up two wooden boxes in a assort of square upon which were placed glass slides, alcohol and ether pills, etc., our supplies. The movie camera was then set up both as a decoy and to film the proceedings. Then we started, each youth was felt for the size of the spleen and liver and a drop of blood was taken from the lob of his ear which was made into smears on slides and numbered, and so on. Soon we had such a crowd that we had to back up against a wall to keep the populace in front only, the rain had something to do with this too. As for the kids, we found that, unless we were careful, they came back for a second or third time. Fortunately the right ear would have the telltale prick. During this, Harold and I wandered around, this time without a host, taking pictures of the streets and people. A girl mixing grain in a big wooden bowl, two men weaving nets, an albino child and a woman with elephantiasis of the legs. It was a relief to get away from the pressing mob of rather dirty children for a while.</p>
<p> After the medical end was thru, Hal and I took a dugout canoe and went for a photographic tour of the inside harbor, taking pictures of the bar and the water front, as well as the island where the original settlers were forced to live due to the hostility of the natives. It is a little island barely above water with a huge tree growing out of it. And on it are about 15 close packed thatch huts in which natives are living. Rather damp I suspect.</p>
<p> In the afternoon it rained as usual so that we were forced to putter round the house. A case of <span style="text-decoration:line-through;">?? </span>elephantiasis came round by request when I photographed. Besides elephantiasis he had the queerest set of teeth of anybody I have ever seen. They were irregularly cubical in shape with flat tops, just a band of putty-like material about ¾ of an inch thick with irregular lines as dividing marks between. The gums were practically absent.</p>
<p> In the evening I again developed, this time, 200 ft. of movies before dinner and 3 dozen still pictures afterwards.</p>
<p> Thur 22<sup>nd</sup>. Rain spoiled going to Mt. Barclay to take pictures. By the way, while I am thinking of it, there is not mountain at Mt. Barclay. It is just a name, I got my photographic outfit dried and packed from A-2, all my clothes put away and locked up and all set to go tomorrow when the plans were changed and I found that I was to wait until Tuesday. I was rather discouraged, not only because I must unpack, but because I must sit four more days in this place, a morning wasted. In the afternoon Hal and I went forth with our cameras to see what we could see. We shot various scenes along the waterfront depicting the life in Monrovia. However, it is much too active there to be typical. Whenever we changed films we had the customary crowd around us peering over our shoulders to see what we were doing with our queer machinery. One our way home we bought a set of Liberian stamps o show the fascinating shapes and pictures thereon. I think that they make more from souvenir stamp hunters than from actual sale for mail purposes.</p>
<p> As we were returning, a boy told us that Mr. Wharton wanted to see us so we dropped in at the American legation to see him. He is a young chap, slightly colored, who is in the American diplomatic corps. He is quite bright as far as I can make out and very agreeable. He was sent here on account of his color. He told us that he had received a letter from President King which authorized a blanket hunting license to cover all game for all the party for nothing. Good fortune for us. We sat around and talked to him for about an hour until the rain let up and we could go home to dress fro this evening’s Banquet with the President at the mansion.</p>
<p>Harold and I supplied Theiler and Shattuck with white coats for the evenings entertainment while Dr. Strong supplied all the rest either with mess jackets or evening coats – the order of the evening. Then at 8.00, Mr. Ross and Mr. Hines came for us and we drove off. As we entered, the band played in our honor. We were ushered into the reception room where we were introduced to the president and members of his cabinet. There were some 36 of us of whom 17 were white. Eight of us – Mr. Ross and Mr. Hines, Drs. Willis, Fuszek, Bonet and Woerly – Mr. Bussell and Mr. Clark (The American Consul) and an unnamed youth in the Methodist mission service. After a while we were led one by one as if going to jail into the dining room and seated, a slow procedure. Then when all were present the band played the Liberian national anthem and the President entered.</p>
<p> Dinner started, croquettes, fish, meat, ice cream, pie, etc., and with each a different kind of win and in the interim the band played. Now, when you consider that the band is the product of three years labor on bush boys it is rather astounding that they can now read music and play the various orchestral instruments. Still, without that knowledge, the discords were enough to drive one mad. And the selections played were quite choice. Of course they were all printed on the menu with the composer’s name. First came “Yes sir She’s My Baby” which was followed by the “Missouri”, “Last Night On the Back Porch”, the “Mikado” and “Cavalieria Rusticana” plus a few others whose names I have forgotten, quite a choice selection to drown our conversation.</p>
<p> But, at last, the President got up and spoke about Coolidge (Cal not Hal) as a man whose motto was “Deeds not Words” as was the motto of the Liberian government. (can you tie that). He also said that the President (Cal) would be watching our progress and that courtesy to us was courtesy to him, etc. Mr. Clark got up next and replied at the same time, saying that Hal was no relation to Cal, only in less familiar terms. Next came the chief who outlined the work of the expedition at the same time confounding them with medical terms concerning the Bilharzia, Palm nematode and yellow fever. They were duly impressed. And last, but not least, Ex-President Barclay made a pleasant though slightly inaccurate address which started with a history of Harvard College, how Greenleaf, a Harvard graduate, had helped them and how we would continue to help them and that they were closely connected with Harvard in consequence.</p>
<p> That ended the dinner. We sat around outside in desultory conversation watching our clocks and hoping that it would soon be over. We left a little after one o’clock. </p>
<p> Fri 23nd We got up at about 6.30 to see Allen, Bequaert and Linder off in the pouring rain for the Du and No. 3 where they are to set up camp. I don’t envy them the rain but wish that I had gone with them instead of waiting until Tuesday in order to take pictures of the National holiday on Monday. Then we more or less sat in a sleepy fashion while it poured outside. I started to get out my outfit again, unpacked some chemicals and generally settled back. Some of us read, and all morning it just poured.</p>
<p> In the afternoon Hal and I went out to buy two muzzle loading gun for the native hunters and to send a cable home. Before we left however, Mr. Tui (so pronounced) came in to call. He is a colored hunter who is optimistic about getting all kinds of game altho Sir Alfred Sharp when out with him got no elephants. However, he is an interesting chap and we had a very pleasant time showing him our guns and discussing the country thru which we hope to pass. When Hal and I got to the cable office at 4.15 we found that by the time of the outside world it was 5.00 and we were just in time. We sent the message to Mr. Coolidge and signed it Coolidge Whitman in hopes that you would have it forward to you. If you do get it I think you will be amused at the wording which is taken from the Western Union Travellers’ Code Book. </p>
<p> When we got back to the house I mixed up developer, etc., and did 200 ft. of movies before supper for I am tired tonight and I want to get to bed early for a change.</p>
<p>Sat 24<sup>th</sup>. Today has been largely spent in writing this letter although I did go downtown for about an hour and a half to see about sending off some films and to talk with a Mr. Denis, also colored, who was connected with Schomberg who had the pleasure of filming Liberia about a year ago. I find that this gentleman, whose films by the way are excellent, spent four months in the dry season here with two professional movie men, taking over 50,000 feet. Really what chance have I with my small outfit and straight pictures to handle in the bargain. But then, such is life. Mr. Denis was pessimistic about film keeping even after development but as today is Saturday and I must have a consular certificate before I can send stuff home I am up a tree. However, I may be able to ship just the same.</p>
<p> Now, in case I do, I will send it all to 78 Chauncy Street. If possible, have it sent to the Eastman Kodak Co. for rejuvenation but not printing unless you wish some of it reduced to small size for your own personal use. Do not let any of it be seen broadcast as Dr. Strong does not want to have anybody see it before we get back. He also doesn’t want anything published unless I first show it to him and then send it on with special notice. So don’t let William try to rehash these letters unless I tell him to.</p>
<p> Another thing – If I send any ordinary film, take them to Solatia Taylor on Bromfield Street, having them washed if necessary and printed, 2 each, set of which can be sent to us here if there is time. Our present plant is to leave Monrovia about the middle of November so that stuff shipped by the first of October will surely reach us unless they are completely lost. The other set can be kept for the family but again, under no circumstances, must it be broadcast, sold or used in any way. And tell them to absolutely sure that they do not get them mixed up otherwise I will never to able to identity them after I have made a year’s collection.</p>
<p>* * * * * * *</p>
<p> I wrote this last on Saturday and now it is Monday and I am in bed with a slight fever. It’s a great life. Here I have stayed over for four days to take photographs of the Liberian holiday – Independence Day – and now I am in bed with no movies taken. They think I have Dengue Fever – a perfectly harmless fever which lasts for about three days and has a fatality of less than 1/10 of 1%. It has for symptoms a splitting headache, especially round the eyes, a fever, a rash and rheumatic-like pains in the joints. It is quite common in the tropics and is mosquito born, the same mosquito which transmits yellow fever. I have never sweat<span style="text-decoration:line-through;">ed</span> so much in all my life. My pajamas and bed clothes are soaking wet and I did have the splitting headache altho, at the moment, 15 grains of aspirin have taken it away. The worst of it is I don’t know whether I can go up river tomorrow as planned and I have been unable to make any arrangements about sending home films, etc. Still, while there is life there is hope.</p>
<p> I got your cable this morning which was very cheering altho since your letter dated about June 14<sup>th</sup> have had no news up till now. However a mail boat came in this morning and, if we don’t go tomorrow, I will undoubtedly get mail up to July 1<sup>st</sup>. It will be very pleasant for, after all, one letter in six and a half weeks is awful little. And I am glad that you like my letters even tho they are degenerating from week to week. </p>
<p> Saturday afternoon Hal and I went over to the British legation with Mr. and Mrs. Hines to call on the Mills family, a farewell call as Hal was leaving early Sunday morning. They have a civet cat over there which was let out for exercise and then cased all over the house in an endeavor to recapture it. It is far from tame and would gladly put his teeth thru you if it got the chance. After supper I developed some more movies making my total 1000 ft.</p>
<p>At six o’clock Sunday morning we all got up with much bustling and moving of tin trunks. All Dr. Shattuck’s and Harold’s things were loaded onto the truck along with some of mine and Theiler’s. Then boys were counted and the baggage was off. We sat around and waited – where was Mr. Ross? At last he came in his Dodge and we all went out to say goodbye. But we were a little premature for when he went to start his car was completely dead. We worked on it for over an hour before we finally commandeered a Ford to take the travellers to Duport. Soon after that I went down to Dr. Bonet’s to take some pictures for him – an antelope and a leopard skin and a tropical alces. Most of the time was spent, however, chatting with Madame Bonet. In the afternoon I went down to Wolo’s house to take some photos of him and his wife in native costume as well as of his entire family. Of course, then I had to sit and talk with them all until about four. As I was walking slowly home I first began to realize that I was getting a headache. So I mixed my chemicals early that I might get as much done before dinner as possible. But while I was working I began to get colder and colder. I started to shiver and even a coat didn’t help. And I felt weak too. I stopped work and lay down until supper when Dr. Strong took my temperature which was about 100.6. And as soon as possible afterwards I went to bed. At 2.30 I had another chill, this time with two blankets over me and my had under them, my teeth were chattering and, after that, I started to sweat, just run water and have ever since. I tried to get up this morning but, after feeling progressively worse, I lay down again. I am in bed now.</p>
<p> By the way, my camera boy, Gaybar Togay wants me to get him some khaki trousers and some gray flannels which he says he will pay for when they come. Now, one trouble is that he may not pan out and may get fired in which case I would be out of luck. And again, if they did come I think that he would find them a little more expensive than he planned. However, I think I will run the risk. Get two pair of khaki long trousers about my size but large enough round the leg, not yid pants. And get good substantial tho not too expensive ones. And send two pairs of gray flannels of like nature. About a 32 waist and 32 length.</p>
<p> But I guess this letter is long enough for the present. My next will be send, I suppose, in about three weeks from the Du plantation and may be the last for a long while. Our plans at present are to spend two weeks or so up the Du, then move on three or four days and set up a new base camp from which we can set off on side journeys. As Liberia is only about 250-300 miles long we can cover it in about three weeks steady travelling and as we do not plan to leave before November 12<sup>th</sup> we will have plenty of time to go on side trips. Whether we will be able to send out mail from the interior or not remains to be seen.</p>
<p> But, enough said for now. My bestest love to you all at home and please remember me to all my friends. And soon I will have something more interesting to write about. </p>
<p> Your most affectionate son</p>
<p> Loring.</p>
<p> P.S. – I have just received two letters dated 17<sup>th</sup> and 23d. I tell you there is nothing like news from home. And do send Joe de Ganahl a wedding present.</p>
<p> And again my best love to you all and tell Aunt Jenny that I hope that by this time she is better than she has ever been before.</p>
<p>P.S.S. It is now Thursday July 29 and I am still in bed though I will probably get up today as my temperature is normal. I had a variation in temperature up to 103 so I am now told and I don’t believe I have ever sweated so much in all my life. It was not malaria. But I will probably be able to go up the Du in a couple days and at present I feel fine and much rested.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Again my best love to you all -</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Loring. </p>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Dearest Family, July 12 - 25, 1926
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
July 12, 1926 to July 25, 1926
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VAD2036-U-00043
Coverage
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Mount Barclay Plantation, Montserrado County, Liberia
Area now known as: Mount Barclay, Montserrado County, Liberia
Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Duport, Montserrado County, Liberia
Du (Dukwia) River, Liberia
Congo Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Kru Town, Montserrado County, Liberia
Area now known as: Current Free Port of Monrovia, Montserrado County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 1, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 1, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 2, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2 Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 3, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Firestone Plantation No. 4, Hinterland, Liberia
Area now known as: Division No. 2, Firestone, Margibi County, Liberia
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Loring Whitman
Birds
Canoes
Cities & towns
Diseases
Drawings
Laborers
Leisure
Luggage
Performances
Politics &government
Rivers
Rubber plantations
Trees
Villages