Miriam Van Waters Papers. Male Prisoner Correspondence, 1927-1971. Correspondence: M, 1935-1936. A-71, folder 612. Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

[left] I am the youngest one in our cell by almost ten years. There are only five of us now. Three of us have life sentences. There was another lifer with us but he moved. I would prefer celling alone but as I can't, the cell pardners I now have are better than most of them. I would rather cell with them than many others I know. We are a quiet bunch.

Just heard from Mike and Elsie. "They are so sorry to learn that I have been sick. They hope it is not serious." How do they hear such things? I may be sick of various things, but certainly not physically illness.

I gave Miss B. her bird. I think he is a little prettier than yours, but your bird is a game bird. He fights very well and never gives ground. I would have liked giving you a yellow one but I did the best I could. I know he will develope into a good singer. Just give him a little time. I hope you like him.

Miss Hoffman wants me to write a Life's story. She says we can probably publish it and pick up some change. I don't like publicity and at the same time. I can't refuse a good friend. I will talk her out of the idea, I hope, until a later date. I would have to get the Warden's permission, and I couldn't write as I would if I was a free man. It would be very boring anyway and wouldn't bring a thin dime.

The mail man hasn't handed me a blessing for quite a while. Your letters are blessings. I watch for him every evening, disappointed more often than not but when I think one is due I wait for him each night "hoping" until I get one. Then I write, and after a reasonable length of time has elapsed I start waiting again. When I get one I lie down on my bunk, read it, and read it again. My cell pardners often poke a little fun at me for watching the mail man, but I don't mind. They don't know about you or how much your letter means. That is all I live for during the day. The blessed hope at night. This probably sounds foolish but these are my true feelings. Many would laugh if they knew, but they shall never know. You alone may see through the door of my heart and soul and understand.

The English book is being used once more. I am going good.

Take care of yourself.

[right] Faithfully yours, Russell McWilliams 5661-E

November 27, 1936 Thanksgiving Evening

Russell McWilliams, #5661, Box 1112, Joliet, Illinois

Dear Russell:

Your letter of November 15th deserved a prompt answer. You are wrong when you say I might be waiting for you to write and that is a reason for delay. I am always very pleased with your letters and I look forward to them, and have kept every one you ever wrote me. But I write to you whenever I have a little freedom from the business of the institution. Today we have just finished the best Thanksgiving, perhaps the best holiday since I came to Framingham. That was March 15, 1932. It seems a long time, but really in many ways we have just made a good beginning.

I hope you and your mates had a pleasant day. I think in most institutions they try to have a good dinner, perhaps good music and a special service. In some places they have sports or a football game. We try to do all these (not the football!) and in addition, since we live on an old New England farm, not far from the place of the first Thanksgiving Day, held in Plymouth in 1621, we give especial attention to the harvest. Then we are a small institution (400) so we can do many things impossible in a huge one.

This year we dressed twenty of our women in costumes of the various nationalities, Russian, Italian, French, Greek, Armenian, Portuguese, Scotsh and Gypsy. As music was played they formed in the back of the chapel and came up to the altar bringing corn, pumpkins, squash, fruit, various other vegetables, apples and flowers they had raised. We had an old blue farm cart and a wheel barrow on the platform. The alter lights and candles were lit. It made a beautiful picture.

Then a girl recited a poem about Autumn, by Robert Frost. I selected three pieces of Scripture and three girls read them very clearly and well. Then I said a Prayer. All of this I can have copied for you to read, if you

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are interested. The glee club and choir sang some beautiful songs and chorals.

At this season of the year we select a person who has made the greatest contribution to our common welfare and put her name on a silver loving or trophy cup, given us for this purpose by a friend, Deaconness Young, a lady who died recently after a long life of being a friend to prisoners. I select the girl, but I ask the opinion of the rest. There was no hesitation this year in selecting one who never was known to say an unkind word to others, or to repreat a mean remark. She does her work well, is never selfish, or jealous; in short she represents courage, courtesy and making the best of it. Other years we have chosen those who nursed the sick, or taught, or did some conspicuous good thing. But this year simple kindliness seemed the thing we were most thankful for.

I handed the girl the Cup with her name engraved on it, and gave her some flowers to wear. All her fellow students (fot that is what we call our prisoners, for I suppose they were sent here to learn, and I don't like the word "Inmate") clapped and rose to their feet. There was another hymn and everyone left the chapel to a good marching tune.

After dinner I took them all down to the big barns where they danced old country Barn dances, anf the Gymnasium girls did tumbling and stunts. I had my nephew George with me and my daughter Sarah.

Then I had talks with twelve of my girls who were troubled about some thing they heard in their letters from home. Finally I sat down to dinner with my family, and afterward the young people playing ping pong. It was a cheerful day in spite of the sadness of so many being away from their homes. Each one seemed to be giving Thnaks to God in her own way.

I am looking forward to my visit in early February. There are many things I want to talk over with you. I had hoped to have a letter for you on Thanksgiving. I send all my good wishes. Thank you for your good wishes. Thank you for your most interesting letter. My nephew George sends his regards,

Ever your friend,

Superintendent.

MVW/K

Thanksgiving Evening Nov. 26 - 1936

Dear Russell:

Your l of Nov 15 deserved a prompt answer. You are wrong when you say I might be waiting for you to write and that is a reason for delay. I am always very pleased with your letters and I look forward to them and have kept every one you ever wrote me. But I write to you whenever I have a little freedom from the business of the institution. Like you, I suppose I think Today we have just finished the best Thanksgiving, perhaps the best holiday since I came to Framingham. That was March 15,1932. It seems a long time, but really in many ways we have just made a good beginning.

I hope you and your mates had a pleasant day. I think in most places insts they try to have a good dinner, perhaps good music and a special service. In some places they have sports or a foot ball game. We try to do all these (not the foot ball!), and in addition, since we live on an old New England farm, not far from the place of first Thanksgiving they held in Plymouth in 1621. We give special attention to the harvest. Then we are a small institution, 400, so we can do many things impossible in a huge one.

This year we dressed twenty of our women in costuments of the various nationalities, Russian, Italian, French, Greek, Armenian, Portuguese, Scotch and [gypsy?]. As music was played they [?] formed in the back of the chapel and came up to the alter bringing corn, pumpkins, squash, fruit, various other vegetables,

apples and flowers they had raised. We had an old blue farm cart, and a wheel barrow on the platform. The alter lights and candles were lit. It made a beautiful picture.

Then a girl recited a poem about autumn by Robert Frost. I selected three pieces of scripture, and 3 girls read them very clearly and well. Then I said a prayer. All of this I can have copied for you to read if you are interested. The glee club and choir sang some beautiful songs and chorals.

At this season of the year we select an person who has made the greatest contribution to our common welfare and put her name on a silver [?], or trophy cup, given us for this purpose by a friend, Deaconess Young, a lady who died recently after a long life of being a Friend to Prisoners. I select the girl, but I ask the opinion of the rest. There was no hesitation this year in selecting one who never was known to say an unkind word to others, or to repeat a mean remark. She does her work well, is never selfish, or jealous: in short she represents courage,