Letter: August 28, 1928
Letter: March 14, 1932
Letter: April 18, 1942
Letter: March 5, 1943
Letter: March 3, 1945
Letters: April 24, 1977 ~ George McWhorter / President Reagan Exchange
Autobiography Teaser
ERB Laughs: Series of photos submitted by Hulbert
ERB Obituary

                Very sincerely yours,
    (sig) Edgar Rice Burroughs

 

April 18 1942

Joan darling:

Just a line to acknowledge your Clipper letter of March 25, received
April 17.  As I wrote you on the 15th, there is not much to add.

Hulbert was in again yesterday, and we had a good visit and a couple
of sets of tennis.  He looks and feels fine.  Major General Woodruff,
who lives at the Niumelu, wants him to apply for transfer to an officers
school; but Hulbert says he would rather be an enlisted man here than
an officer on the mainland.  Hulbert's weight was down to 161 1/2 yester-
day.  and was he pleased!

Lots of love to you all,
(sig)Papa

 

1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu  T H

                                        March 5 1943

Joan darling:
On my return to Honolulu, I found two nice letters from you, of Dec-
ember 13 and January 15.   You could not have sent me anything for 
Christmas that I could wish more than your continued love and mis-
taken belief that I am a great guy.  Anyway, I like to have you say 
it.  And I am just as proud of you, dear, as you seem to be of me. 

I wrote Jack yesterday; so won't repeat here, as I know he will show 
you the letter. 

Joan, you just can't imagine how wonderfully every one has treated 
me. As you know, I have always been just a little bit cynical about 
homo sapiens.  But now I guess that I shall have to admit that God 
made a pretty good job when he whittled him out.  And for me, the 
best of them are our own people.  After spending three solid months
with Army, Navy, and Marine Corps men of all ranks and grades I am 
so damned proud of being an American that I am on the verge of burst-
ing. They are friendly, they are intelligent, they are ingenious,
they are courageous.  I know that there are morons and heels among us, 
but they are outnumbered a thousand to one.

The aborigines on the islands love us.  They hate the Japs and they 
are not particularly crazy about non-American whites. Our boys laugh 
and kid with them, and they'll work all day for us for food and a
package of cigarettes just to be with us.  They are simple, likable, 
child-like people.  If they stewed you for dinner, it would not be 
because they disliked you.  Quite the contrary. 
 

I ws walking along a road on one of the islands when I passed close 
to a couple of women.  I smiled and nodded, as I did to most of the 
natives I passed.  The woman nearest me was a horrible looking, tooth-
less old hag.  As she passed close to me, she pinched my leg and smiled 
coyly.  Who says the old S.A. isn't working?

I had a grand time on a destroyer.  Spent a month aboard her. The 
Executive Officer shared his cabin with me.  He ranks next to the 
captain.  I sat at the Captain's right at mess.  We chased subs and 
dropped depth charges.  It was quite exciting.  They gave me the run 
of the ship.  I was fun standing on the fantail when depth charges 
were dropped or being on the bridge when we were entering a harbor. 
And ladders!  I was running up and down 'em all day.  I am convinced 
that there is nothing wrong with my heart.  Over the loud speaker 
would come the command, "Stand by for submarine attack!"  That gives 
one's heart a few extra beats to the second.  Then, if I didn't go 
aft to the fantail, I'd scamper up three ladders to the bridge as fast 
as I could scamper.  When the charges were detonated, the ship would jump 
and shudder.  Just to give you and idea of the force of these charges 
of TNT:  Another destroyer dropped charges two and a half miles away, 
and our ship shook.

I bought some junk for the kids and you.  And I mean junk.  But it is 
from far places.  If I ever get caught up with my correspondence, I'll 
wrap it up and send it along.  Lots of Love!

Papa

 
Edgar Rice Burroughs
Tarzana, California

1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu 42  Hawaii 

3 March  1945

Joan Darling:

It was good to have your letter of 23 February, which arrived 
yesterday.

While I was, in a way, glad to get back here, I enjoyed my stay
in California so much that I am now inclined to get homesick, I 
miss you all so much.

Was glad to learn that you are O.K. again.  Leavelle was probab-
ly quite right (and playing safe) in diagnosing your trouble as
"gingivitis".  Had he just said inflammation of the gums, he
would still have been right; and you would have known that he
didn't know what the hell was the matter with you.

Was not greatly surprised to hear about Dorothy and George.
George is a chump, and some day he will realized it. Dick is the
real loser, as is the case of nearly every minor in a broken
home, though your case is an exception.  I think yours are better
off.  Some day they will realize it.

Tell Dorothy I've been expecting a letter from her.  She's a swell
girl.  I miss watching her drag that damn vacuum all over the
house, letting Tuffy out, letting Tuffy in, and letting Tuffy out
again.

Hulbert blew into my quarters about 6:30 last evening with Capt. 
Elmer, a dame, and a bottle.  He let me have one drink, and then
blew out again.  I tried to shame him into leaving what was left
of the bottle; but no soap.  I think the dame was Elmer's (This
to relieve Ella Mae's mind, should you inadvertently mention it).

We were all shocked at the reported loss of Genl. Harmon. I me
him on New Caledonia, where he was extremely nice to me. He was
a respected and popular officer. 

Was glad to know that Joanne is in Van Nuys High School.  It was
a very fine school when Hulbert and Jack went there, and there
were many nice children and a lot of drips.  I hope Joanne fore-
gathers with the former.

Lots of love to you all, my dear,

Papa

N.B.:
       Much has been made of the error 
in spelling of the pseudonym used by
Edgar Rice Burroughs for the publica-
tion of his first story: "Under the 
Moons of Mars." The author was somewhat 
miffed when the editors changed his 
psuedonym from "Normal Bean" to "Norman 
Bean"... but I have not noticed any of 
the Burroughs Bibliophiles point out 
that the advance notice for the story 
(printed in the January issue of The
All-Story) does, in fact, spell the 
pseudonym exactly as submitted by the 
author.
     For this reason, I include the 
January issue in the slipcase contain-
ing the serial.

A U T O B I O G R A P H Y

My father, Major George T. Burroughs, was a cavalry officer during the 
Civil War.  He and my mother were married while the army of the Potomac was
carrying out its campaign of watchful waiting.  Father was attached to the
staff of General Vinton if my memory serves me correctly, and after all
women were ordered to the rear, my father, with the connivance of the gen-
eral and his staff, ignored the order and kept my mother with him.  She was
a little girl who rode a little white horse, and at one time, when the bri-
gade was moving, word came down the line that General McLellan (McClellan) was
approaching, so General Vinton's staff completely surrounded mother on her little
white horse and she remained the only woman with the Army of the Potomac.

Whenever it was possible, I have been on horseback ever since.

I was born in Chicago and attended the old Brown School on the West Side,
partially through the sixth grade, at which time there was a diptheria epi-
demic in the city and much to my horror and dismay my parents took me out of
public school and put me in a girls' school, which happened to be the only
private school available on the West Side.  I was not alone, however, as
several other boys' parents did likewise.  There were only a half dozen of
us and we were there but half a year; yet we have all been unusually sucess-
ful in one way or another.

William Carpenter ("Billy") Camp is a nationally known marital expert.
having married, among others, the actress, Alita Proctor Otis and Mrs. Thorne
of Montgomery, Ward & Co.  Alson Clark of Pasadena is one America's best
known painters. Ben Marshall, with whom I used to smoke cubeb cigarettes
when I was sowing my wild oats, is Chicago's most successful architect.  The
late Marcel T. Clark was head of the largest paint company in Chicago.  Bev
Waters makes nearly all the steel lockers in the world and is another one of 
the lousy rich.

Twenty-six years ago this month he wrote his first Tarzan story, Tarzan of the Apes.  Since then dad has turned out 70 full-length novels; has seen Tarzan of the Apes translated into 16 foreign languages

HULBERT BURROUGHS
Los Angeles, Calif.