Letters from Marcy #15: 28 September 1965

This was written a month after the last letter. Marcy appears to be ensconced in an apartment in Torrance, in Southern California; I think this was the last of her work-outside-the-college quarters.

A major focus of this letter is Marcy’s aunts Sara and Stelle, apparently sisters who lived together somewhere nearby. I recall hearing Stelle’s name when I was a kid, but I still haven’t quite figured out where they fit into the family tree.

(Edited in 2022 to add: Ancestry.com indicates that Stelle (or Stella?) and Sara (or Sarah?) may have been Marcy’s father Jack’s sisters. I am surprised; I had no idea that Jack had siblings.)

I keep wishing that Marcy’s parents’ responses to her letters had survived; I don’t have much sense of what they were like as people, and I think the letters would have helped.


                                           [pencil: 9/28/65]



Thanks for the check; almost hope mine bounces so they'll
have an excuse to throw me out--the manager-lady (couple,
actually) was/were very nice about my leaving at the end of
the month. (threw a scene for them, complete with a few
tears, which were sort of real as I was pretty blue) about
how I'm not making as much as I thought I was, and
absolutely have to find a cheaper place as soon as possible.
So her husband is going to help me look, even spend a few
hours driving around to find places. Said she'd x already
sent the check in to the company, or it would have been okay
to stay a day or so and not pay. Says the deposit will be
returned immediately, soon's I leave, so I can pay deposit,
if necessary, on new place. should be able to find a house
with private apt for about $60/month, which is what I should
have insisted on doing in the first place. but Ruth was in a
hurry, and aunt Sara and aunt Stelle were sitting there in
the back of her (Chrysler) station wag, and made me kind of

What a messy thing. Spent last Tuesday night at Aunt Sara's,
finishing typing a paper for school....listened to Sara tell
me all about how impossible Stelle is all afternoon; then
she and Dave went to movies with the Glicks and some other
couple in the evening, and had to sit and listen to Stelle
tell me all about how hard her life is. And how everybody
pushes her around, and she wants to live alone, or stay with
Valli, or something, and how goodhearted she's always been,
and how she hates California, and wants to go back to
Philadelphia, and can't meet new people and on and On and
ON. I really feel sorry for the poor old thing; she's
awfully sweet (if you don't have to live with her, I guess)
and can hardly hear a thing, which is terrible in the best
of situations, and feels left out and put upon and pushed
around and all kinds of terrible. Honest to god, I will kill
myself it it ever comes to that. (But then again, it xxx
won't. I will never be that dependent on others, not even
having a sister, hurray.) She and Sara are constantly at
each others' throats; every last little word is taken as
innuendo and insult, and real or imagined hurt. Only I think
that by now most of it is intended; there's a kind of
family/sisterly/familiarity hatred there that is really
ugly. Sara kind of wishes Stelle would drop dead, or at
least get out of her life, but when push comes to shove, she
won't give Stelle a chance to prove that she's worth
anything at all. of course, 90 billion years of age is a bit
old to start asserting your x independence and turning over
a new leaf. And our course Stell has no idea how much of a
nusiance she can be, or that sometimes her family needs a
vacation from her; least of all does she realize that she is
old and sick and infirm and not young and spry and agile.

now early morning---fell asleep in the midst of that last
bit;; got up early so's I could finish this and mail it this

If necessary, I can be reached c/o Mrs. Green, the manager,
at 370-5398. hope such is not necessary. .... The apartment
is really nice--bedroom/living room w/transformable couch;
gigantic closets, entire, tho tiny kitchen, bathroom with
shower/tub. and xxxx swimming pool outside, an absolute x
prerequisite of LA apartments.....or so it seems. This
buildnig, like Aunt Sara's and most others, is built on the
order of a villa....like 2 levels, spread out and connected,
in an E or some similar or more complex shape, with parking,
laundry, trash underneath. surrounded by a fence to climb
over, just for the hell of it.

The job is pretty okay; teachers (2) are pretty human, tho
not terribly skilled, as both are former grade-school
teachers. at least they treat kids like people, and are
genuinely fond of them.....so we all feel we have lots to
learn from each other. The directress is never there, and is
evidently slightly out of her mind; the teachers blame her
for all unpleasant xxxx rules--we shall xxxx see, she's
coming in today.

Torrance is pretty damn isolated. Will explore the bus
situation this weekend. Went swimming in the ocean last
Sunday, which was glorious....trip to San Francisco was
glorious, but have to go, so remind me and I'll tell you
about it next letter.

                             take care, 'appy contact lens.

                                  [handwritten: love]
                                       [handwritten: Marcia]


Postmark: semi-unreadable, but I’m guessing it says Sep 29, 1965, Torrance, Calif. Handwritten: “Rec’d this Sat. 10/1/65” and “Ans this 10/7.”

Facebook post for this letter.

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