Where's Armand?

Hitch-Hiking, Hiking and Dancing

Last year, I compared Armand Singer to the Energizer Bunny and also found that he made the same reference to the non-stop critter in a 1999 Christmas letter.

This excerpt from his diary (1935-1937) leads me to offer again, that Armand was the original Energizer:

Friday-Sunday, May 1-3, 1936. Friday aft at 4 or so, started hitch-hiking for Woodbury's Farm near Mt.Toby . Started walking at 5 P.M. and arrived on summit before 7 P.M., carrying a pack as heavy or heavier than one I took to Black Hills last summer, which was approximately 30 pounds. Had some marvelous clam chowder soup, bread, meat spread (lousy), and an orange.

Then watched a very unusual red sun, settling into dim, murky clouds. Used my binoculars, which gave a funny appearance to the whole setting, sun much too large. Then read Thomas Mann's "Magic Mountain" till dark and hit the hay.

The wind was howling and strong, reminding me of the night I spent in Glacier Park, near and just east of Many Glacier Hotel, last summer. I lay on my back watching an almost full moon, lovely stars and leafless trees rising sparkily into the strong moonlight. By getting up on my elbows I could see the lights down in the Connecticut Valley. About 3 A.M. it got so cold I had to move into the open shelter.

Got up early, decided to try a new way down and struck off on a trail going east. It was lovely. Follows Roaring Brook down to railroad tracks on east side of mountain, near which you can strike a road running S.W. into North Amherst.

I was down by 7:45 (started 7). Then, being crazy, climbed back up to summit ridge where I had seen a branch going S.W. Went down it, ending up in lovely meadow, where I was two winters ago - first time I tried to climb Mt. Toby on snowshoes and where I went wrong.

Had I continued along this trail, up, instead of branching off left, I probably would have made it. Continued on down going into woods, saw a left branch to trail and took it, finally arriving, after long and devious windings, at sugar camp above reservoir on road to Tyler Cabin.

I never have been able to find the damned thing, so, knowing it must be near the sugar camp and seeing a branch to road, going up left, took it and in a few minutes reached camp. I then went on down to road and bummed home.

Too hungry to bother changing clothes, so went into Lord Jeff Coffee shop in old togs, all grimy, dirty and dusty. Here were all the beauteous prom queens and guests (as this is Junior Prom weekend) all dressed up. I must have astounded them and like to (being vain).

Met Charles Rieser's girl - Patricia Moore from Mt. Holyoke and Jimmy Schnefpel's girl, Virginia Oliver from White Plains, N.Y. I saw fun for evening, so dressed up in my tuck trousers and double breasted white linen, etc. and went to Sphinx Cotillion dance at Psi U. Hudson-Delange orchestra, very good on hot numbers though a little blary. Had very good time.

I got along very well, as I always do at 1st sight, with aforementioned girls. It must be that I don't act the same, or better, that I put on a party spirit and forget my prejudices, which would alienate me from at least Virginia immediately. At any rate, I do swell at first and then soon pooh out. Xt, what a life.

Photo: Flashes of Panic

Opining, as a Young Man

There are numerous snippets, insights to Armand's personality, strewn throughout the pages of his diaries. They were written in those pensive moments when he was alone and the world around him, at peace. In the beginning months of 1936 he recorded his thoughts of trains, democracy and cheap thrills:

Train Whistles on a Foggy Night.
I was thinking how sad the sound of trains, especially train whistles on a foggy night, make me. It's quite a common feeling I know. Why?

Wonder if it's because we are usually dissatisfied in some way with our present surroundings and would like to go places- perhaps anywhere, perhaps to see some one dear to us.

The train suggests that trip and that while it is making it, we're not. If we were perfectly content, trains wouldn't arouse any emotions, I suppose. Of course, the whistle on a foggy day is the very quintessence of dismal sounds anyway.
............
Democracy.
Here in America we all praise and expect democracy. Yet, everything except government is contrary to it. Social conventions and "wage" slavery deny it. Loomis rules me, King and the college rule both of us, our parents rule us, laws rule us, what the hell do we have power over.

Of course we can ship out from under our employer's hand, somewhat as a serf is a land slave and is free when he abandons his farm, but like the serf, can we really? A fellow must eat and can't quit his job like that and just starve to death.

I was reminded of it by thinking how Alto said she had to be so careful of her actions around town, lest people talk. Same as I do. I'm not a naturally rebellious soul, but it does gripe one at times.
............
Cheap Thrills.
I enjoy reading Darwin's "Voyage of the Beagle" no end, yet it is a book I had to force myself to become interested in. Likewise, I enjoy Dante and Goethe. I get something from them that does not come from Edgar Wallace or Sax Rohmer, or Colliers. Yet I do not turn to the great things entirely or spontaneously.

Like good music, great works of art in any field give me what cheap jazz and cheap art never do, but why do I persist in the latter? Is it because they can be casually enjoyed, when one rushes to be merely superficial?

A comedy is easier to take pleasure in than a tragedy, but does it leave a lasting impression? I think not. Aristotle and his catharsis of the emotions may be a misunderstood term, but surely it must be related somehow to that feeling one gets from great art in any field.

I suppose the truly educated man would despise the cheap in any form, even well done detective stories and well done jazz. He would get spontaneous joy from more delicate humorists like Moliere, his "jazz" from Strauss. It certainly is true that I get my light entertainment from better things than I used to. There is development, then.

But should one desert the jazz and romance and westerns altogether? It's not an easy problem to solve, unless one wants to be falsely pedantic. Most of us enjoy the cowboy riding the western plains or the hero guiding his dog team across frozen wastes to save the girl, the beautiful girl, and why not?

Photo: Hassan

On the way to the Ile de France...

I have been searching the Armand Diaries in hopes of finding a story that Armand once told me. It happened in Europe amidst war time frenzy and he had to hide out in a hotel room. I have yet to find a written version of that particular story but it is clear that Armand's study tour took an ominous turn even before he boarded the Ile de France.

Paris, 11:30P.M., Tuesday, August 29, 1939. What a 28 hours! Wrote Mary, caught train at 10:50 for Paris. Very eerie riding through dark. Near French border, all lights were turned out and stayed out rest of trip. They were turned out in Paris last and this night too, except for feeble glow.

At border, bought ticket sans 40% carte touristique, only as far as Belfort. When train pulled in there, only to stop for 5 minutes, I got off with my pack and ran as hard as I could for exit, intending to re-enter station by "front" door, buy a ticket as if just coming from Belfort and as if never left France at all, so I could use ticket. Ran so hard that an officer stopped me (Belfort 20 miles or so from border and mobilization going on now and everyone is suspicious), held me and questioned about entry, why I'd been in Italy, how long, etc., till train left.

I went out of station, returned, found next train = 7:47 A.M. (It was now 2:10 A.M.), and left again trying to find night's lodging. No go, all filled up with mobilizing men. Returned to spend night on station bench - also all filled.

Then sneaked by the same officer who had questioned me, managed safely to buy "40% off" ticket, learned that a train from Basle to Paris was still there though supposed to have left before, sneaked again by the suspicious officer, had ticket punched, ran and boarded the train.

All was pitch dark. Conductor went into third class carriage with cigarette lighter to search me a seat. Found it. Then, in French, in the almost darkness, a woman's voice said, "This man just got off the train a few minutes ago!"

The train, partly from Basle, part from Berne, was the same one that had left, shunted onto a side track, and by some misfortune, I had managed to enter same carriage, same compartment! Knowing my geography, I quickly brazened it out as conductor was suspicious and asked for my ticket, and said lady was crazy, and that I had just come from Nancy. It worked! Conductor thought lady was batty and I was safe. Later, I explained to her the situation.

Train remained there until 4 A.M., awaiting another section from Austria. Every few minutes, a man with lantern would come by and I lay in great fear that in these suspicious times, and with my various stories, I'd be found out. Finally we left.

As last straw, this A.M., the ticket puncher, as is seldom done, came around to punch our tickets and I remembered him as man taking ticket before Belfort! Another crisis, but he said nothing and I have saved 2$ or so.

Years later, Armand Singer read this entry and left the following notation:

[1955: Mon Dieu: all this for $2.00!]

Photo:History.SanDiego.edu

In France, September 1939 - Part 2

If you missed Part 1, read it here.

Armand continues:

Tuesday, September 5, 1939. God, what a trip. Sunday night it began to roll, I got sea sick and was a wreck -vomiting galore all Sunday night and Monday. Felt better by 9 P.M. Monday. Got up this A.M., weak as a kitten. Stayed up , feeling shaky but O.K. all day.

If I hadn't remembered the "rise and breathe with rise of boat, lower yourself and exhale as boat drops" trick some girl taught me on the DeGrasse*, I'd be a sure goner by now. The night in Southampton was so bad that with pajama lowers and sheet only over me, sheet became wringing wet with perspiration.

Morale of passengers on boat isn't bad, though we're all on each other's nerves and I cordially hate most everyone on board but Art, Dick and Mitch. All seem so worthless, ignorant, pompous, crude, or something. Probably fear and nerves bringing out their worst natures.

The French crew is pretty nervous. Our cabin steward and many others very drunk, most of rest drinking. They don't want to work and leave things dirty as possible and some are insolent. But you can't blame them, on return (if they get back) they'll all be pressed into service.

Not so damned pleasant for any of us, travelling Lord knows where, full of war scares, baseless rumors. Oh how I wish to hell I were back with Mary - I just can hardly wait! We're supposed to be adding several knots to our normal speed and going north (cutting 100 miles from usual distance) maybe to arrive in N.Y. not far after normal date (Thursday aft), though we started 30 hours late, including Southampton layover. We didn't start till 6:00 or so Sunday A.M. I thought we never would pull out and I'm a nervous wreck.

One of guys in cabin who changed with one of original inmates and who got on at Southampton says that from Friday, 6P.M. till sometime Sat, the sailing was definitely cancelled and that U.S. officials pressure was all that put through sailing. French Line office told him to take another boat and signed his ticket over to Canadian Pacific's Empress of Britain.

Thursday, 9:30 P.M. or so, September 7. Still going. Hell of a voyage. Getting rough again, and during our two fairly calm days, almost no sun. Nothing to do but worry or eat (food at least, thanks to French genius, remains good thru it all!) Now rumor says we don't arrive till Sat. A.M., which equals our 1 1/2 days late exactly. Wind and rain has been so bad, almost impossible to go on deck all trip.

Tuesday, September 12, 11:30 P.M. Durham, no less! We arrived on New York harbor, Friday eve, docking Sat. A.M. at 8. We made up a little time, very little. How many black outs did we really take?

From one mileage card I read in 1st class, we seemingly made normal speed, and thus, since arrived about in normal time, probably didn't zigzag or go off normal course. At any rate, we arrived safe and sound enough. I was wildly glad to have it over with. What with the weather, tension, cramped quarters, my desire to be with Mary again was all the stronger.

When off boat, no bus connections to Fairmont before 6 P.M. bus so had to waste another day away from her. Did it pleasantly and instructively at American Museum of Natural History and at Hayden Planetarium. Heard Dr. Clyde Fisher give a really clever lecture and demonstration of imaginary journey to the moon and sights of earth and heavens from there. Done with planetarium machines. More interesting and clever than Chicago planetarium show I saw several years ago while at World's Fair there.

Finally arrived in Fairmont around Sunday noon, with time to shave, change some of my clothes and clean up in Pittsburgh. No one will ever know how relieved and glad I was to be with Mary again. That evening, alone together - the exquisite tenderness of our love is indescribable.

We had to leave for Durham yesterday from Rock Lake, due to Mr. White's teaching schedules, (Editor's Note: Mr. White was Mary's father) so we did, arriving here safe and sound (a wonder, what with war torn Atlantic - Germans did get 1400 passenger Cunard Line Athenia, with many Americans, killing 100 about Sept. 3 off coast of Scotland) (and what with Mr. White's wild driving) this eve., 5 P.M. Now settled at 1013 Lamond, dead tired, 1/2 unpacked. 

*Editors Note: in 1939 Armand sailed to Europe on the DeGrasse and in 1940 it was taken over by the Germans and used as a troop ship.

In France, September 1939

At 10:25a.m. on September 2, 1939, Armand Singer was aboard the Ile de France in the port of Le Havre, France. He wrote:

All hell's broken loose. Germany's bombed Poland, called Dantzig annexed. War seems imminent, and French authorities refuse to let boat sail.

We were promised a gun-boat convoy for last night, but it didn't come. Today, dubious at least till night fall. As yet, France and England haven't entered in a war.

Four in our cabin (not Art, Dick and Mitch, however) last night and was terribly damp, hot and stuffy, as ventilation system has no cold morning sea air to suck in. Regular Black Hole of Calcutta here on E deck.

Mary and Geefer [editor's note: Armand is referring here to his mother] will surely read that boat didn't sail and about war, etc. - it'll be hell. And this waiting, in a really dangerous spot, isn't so sweet either.

Before I forget it, I found the following more or less standardized and cheap diet in France and elsewhere was healthful, easy to get and kept up my weight (cost 23-30 fr. a day):

• breakfast- 2 whole oranges, bought at grocery, 2 petits pains or 1 p.p., 1 croissant (sometimes small chocolate bar instead or in addition)
• lunch- 1 buttered ham sandwich, cookies (125- 200 grams)
• dinner- good full dinner, sans drink and hors d'oeuvre and dessert, but including soup. Dessert separately elsewhere: cookies, chocolates, ice cream, etc.

12 PM, Sunday. Southampton, anchored off harbor. Finally left Le Havre, 4:30AM today, arriving here at 9. Town in blackout. Don't know when or if we'll ever leave - supposed to sail, but no assurance. Cabin insufferably hot and stuffy and sticky again. Mitch and Al and I eat together, nice table for four - only pleasant thing on trip, except that Mitch plays piano beautifully for us in aft.

Boat stuffed with men and women in corridors, some put up with only steamer chairs on covered deck for a "room", some in converted library and recreation rooms turned into multiple bunk rooms, etc.

6:30PM, Tuesday, September 5. Mid- Atlantic somewhere. Officials won't give us position or mileage, or where we'll land, when, if, nothing. We're getting a news bulletin now, but little on it.

Black-out at night: complete, for England and France have declared war on Germany. Constant submarine menace. Two guys stand watch all day and signal everything we come on- lynx eyed fellows who can see a sail a mile off! We are supposed to have a three destroyer convoy. Art says he saw it late at night. I haven't seen it at all.

To be continued...
This is pure Armand! He's caught in a very dangerous situation and by the terse sentences, I sense that he is NOT comfortable. Yet, he finds it necessary to teach. He's found a cheap, sustainable diet one might use while travelling in this part of the world and he wants to share it.

Photo: French Line Services

More about the Ile de France