While Gladys worked as a physical education teacher in San Diego, she received letters from India describing strange and wonderful tales. Ken, hoping for romance, had finally gotten her attention.
In 1915, Ken and Gladys had been classmates at Walla Walla High, in Washington State. He’d grown up among various lumber mills, educated in one-room school houses in the Northwest. (One day as a child, in a small sawdust town, he’d sat on his dad’s shoulders while witnessing a gunfight. )
Gladys, a year older than Ken, paid him little notice. After high school graduation (he at only age 16, as he was quite brilliant) their friendship grew at the University of Washington in Seattle.
But it wasn’t until 1923 that Gladys began to eagerly tear open his letters. Ken, with his degree in forestry and logging engineering, had been hired by the government of India.
Ken sent this letter to Gladys from India, ten days after his arrival:
J. Kenneth Pearce, Taj Mahal Hotel, Bombay, to
Miss Gladys Gose, ℅ Roosevelt Junior High School, San Diego, California, U.S.A.
7 Oct, 1923
Dear Glad:
I like India! At least from all I’ve seen of it so far. Everything is big and airy and cool — you don’t notice the heat nearly as much as in the states, because your whole life accords with tropical conditions.
Our hotel room is as large as an ordinary cottage in the states, with a ceiling twice as high. Electric fans all around instead of windows. Plenty of good cooling “likker” (no prohibition, here!) and the crowning convenience of all, a “bearer” (a Travancore Hindu) who acts as my valet, butler and servant extraordinaire.
He takes care of all my belongings, prepares my bath, puts on my shoes, lays out my clothes, takes care of my luggage while traveling, etc., etc., all for the princely sum of 40 Rupees or about $13.00 a month. He has been an army officer’s servant for many years – through the Mespot Campaign and in France.
In addition, the Government furnishes me a “tour clerk” or private secretary, who looks after my traveling arrangements, accounts, correspondence, etc. He is also an interpreter in Tamil, Telugu, Hindi, Malayan and English — the prevalent language in South India.
The government also supplies me three “duffadors” or orderlies who stand outside my door, run errands, convey messages, and do everything I, the “Sahib” desires. It keeps me busy sometimes finding work for all my staff to do!
Railway travel (First Class) in India affords a luxury unapproached by anything in the U.S. short of a private car. Each compartment is the entire width of the car, with two big leather lounges instead of seats (you carry your own bedding), a private showerbath and electric fans. A servant’s compartment adjoins so someone is always at my call.
Haven’t been in the jungle yet (only got to India Sept 29th), as it takes some time to get a kit together and must first make rounds and get acquainted with all the Gov’t officials, Ministers, Secretaries, etc., etc., with whom it is well to be on good terms.
I wrote to you from France, then either Belgium or Germany, and Port Said, I believe. Hope you got the letters. I sent them ℅ your sister at Seattle, but lost the street number, so just put Ravenna Blvd.
The Red Sea lived up to its reputation as being one of the hottest places in the world, to the extent that one of the native ship’s coal stokers (a Punjabi) jumped overboard. Our voyage across the Indian Ocean was calm and quite uneventful except a fancy dress (masquerade) ball at which I portrayed an American flapper — most successful — but to the horror of the missionaries. One of them–you won’t believe this—graduated from Whitman in ’19.
I was very glad to get your letter of 4 Sept on my arrival in India. I hope your work continues interesting and all life likewise. And remember I’m always hoping to hear from you.
Cheerio! (as we Britishers say)
Ken
Note from Laurie, (nearly 100 years later): I can’t resist giggling at the image of my grandpa, as a young man, dressing up as a flapper during that costume party aboard the steamship!
This was the beginning of a ten-year adventure for Ken; seven for Gladys when she finally sailed off to marry him. Want to be sure you read future posts with their wild and funny stories? Click my Subscribe box (top right on this page) to get new posts via email, or subscribe via WordPress Reader.
Did you miss these previous posts?
1918: A Day She Beat the Boys — In 1918, Gladys was not to be deterred from winning the race against the frat boys, so she ditched her cumbersome ladies’ “swim dress”.
A Naughty Baby Elephant — When elephant Kitty gave birth to the first baby elephant born in Nedangayam lumber camp in S. Malabar India, Kitty’s Baby became a beloved pet to all — until she outgrew her welcome.
1929: Dearest Funny Baby — Kenneth — 91 years ago — wrote this note to his wife and new child when all were confined to home. Ken and Gladys, Americans, were expats in Ooty, India and their home called Braemar.
One Less Crocodile — This 1926 jungle story is from the diary of Gladys Gose Pearce, a Seattle woman who lived with spouse Ken in India during the British Raj era.
