Like the previous Lost Greetings post, War Dad’s Canteen, Part 1, this card was produced to promote a service members’ place of respite near a major military hospital in Springfield, Missouri. Whereas the previously posted “War Dad’s Canteen Chapter No. 6” image showed the interior of the building, this one features the exterior and notes its location at “Frisco Station,” a significant depot on the St. Louis-San Francisco Railway. The postmark “P.O. ST-SF Sta.” stands to indicate this note was also placed in the mail at Frisco station.
The postcard was sent by Sgt Marvin L. Ward to a youngster living at the same residence in Morrisville, North Carolina as previously featured on this blog. Though, this postcard was delayed in reaching that destination.
Though occasionally vacation postcards can be entertaining, they often contain the most ironically mundane commentary regarding the weather or scheduling. I find the most interesting postcards are the ones that involve births, deaths, marriages, relocations, war, homecomings, graduations, illness, and even lost pets. Those are the ones where I find the most interesting tidbits of individual humanity and anthropology on a larger scale.
An article published in 2005 by the U.S. National Library of Medicine notes “Not only can the illustrations on postcards reveal a considerable amount of information about hospitals in the early twentieth century, but the messages, addresses, postmarks, and stamps can also offer a glimpse of the lives of ordinary citizens and their perceptions of the health care system.” (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1175805/)
Here we read about one such hospital experience. The sender expresses relief in having made it through surgery, and makes note of the diversity of her fellow patients inside McCleary Hospital near Kansas City, Missouri. I think most people have mixed feelings about hospitals — perhaps, not thrilled about yourself or a family member falling ill, but grateful to have a hospital where you can seek care. I’m glad that Mrs. Goetsch seems to have had a mostly positive hospital stay.
Dear Mable,
Here is the place I am and I guess the place to get well. Had my operation and am over the worst I hope so. Sure meet people from all over the country, young and old, fat and small. Hope from now I will feel better.
Mrs. Goetsch
Postmark: Excelsior Springs, Missouri – May 18, 1942
To: Mrs. Mable Kueck – Janesville, Wisconsin
Patient receiving care in Kansas City, Missouri in 1948. Flickr, The Commons
McCleary Thornton Minor Hospital
McCleary Clinic and Hospital remains in existence as McCleary – Thornton – Minor Hospital in Excelsior Springs.
Who is Sergeant Graves? And why is he after Dick Chapman? Why is the quality of the milk important information to share? Was Pvt Chapman a fabled milk man before he was drafted or enlisted to serve?
Also, I’m not sure how I feel about the artwork. Are they jeering or cheering? Both?
So many questions.
Dear Tyson,
I am a Pvt in the Air Corps. Sgt Graves hasn’t got me yet. Tell everyone Hello. Milk out here is good.
Dick
To: Mr. Felix Tyson / c/o Crescent Hill Milk Service / Gallatin, Tennessee
From: Pvt R. Q. Chapman, Sqd. A 24 L. G.
Army Air Corps
Jefferson Barracks, Missouri
Postmark: Jefferson Barracks, Missouri – March 23, 1943
Front Artwork: WWII Army Airborne Comic “They had a reception committee here to meet me!” made by Beals, Des Moines, Iowa
“It Won’t Mean a Thing If You Don’t Pull The String!”
This bright paratrooper cartoon referencing a famous big band hit pokes fun at the serious and dangerous training service members face. On the reverse, Dick inquires about Felix’s new truck. Perhaps it was a Chevy.
I couldn’t find any information about Cpl Chapman’s unit, but Jefferson Barracks, Missouri is a small installation located on the western bank of the Mississippi River active during the Civil War and still home to Army National Guard and Air National Guard units.
Hello Tyson
Wonder how things are there now. I hear you are doing ok. How about the new truck? Wish I could be there for a while at least. Write.
Lost Greetings 