I am going to put the Commission out of commission

Born in 1863, one-time blacksmith Bob 'The Freckled Freak' Fitzsimmons was the world's first three-division champion boxer and, as a result of his phenomenal upper-body strength, possessed the hardest punch of all fighters by quite a margin. Just prior to writing the following letter on his truly magnificent, befittingly boastful letterhead, the boxing commission had refused to renew his boxing license on account of his age (he was 51) and he was clearly furious. Refusing to accept the decision he appealed, but to no avail; his last fight took place that year. Three years later Fitzsimmons passed away after suffering from pneumonia.

Transcript follows.

Source

Transcript

BOB FITZSIMMONS
THE ONLY COMPOSITE CHAMPION THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN
Viz.
MIDDLEWEIGHT, LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT and HEAVYWEIGHT

JOHN MEEK, Manager

To Sporting Editor:
Who, in your opinion, is the best fighter of to-day and also of all times?
We may say, Bob Fitzsimmons, everything considered.
N.Y.Evening World, Dec.2, 1913

Bound Brook, NJ
Jan 7th 1914

My Dear Mr Biglow

I received the beautifull smoking jacket also the bottle of Byes and I thank you for them the coat fits fine but the Wiskey I will leave for my friends to drink, and I hope I will never touch Wiskey again it is no good. I am training hard now. I fight Dan Daley on the 22 of this month at Wiliams Port Pa and I fight the Boxing Commission next week. I am going to put the Commission out of commission they have no right to bar me from boxing and stop me from geting a living, they have even bared me from sparing with my son in an exibition even if I was offered 1000 a week I would not be alowed to get it by sparing in NJ State a fine job they have done, but we will suprise them before long. I had Mabel out Monday night to dinner. We dined at three places then I walked home with her to the Welington Hotel. I do not think she is very happy but she has herself to blame and no one else, I feel sorry for her anyway. Trusting you are injoying good health, and I wish you and yours a Happy New Year.

Sincerely your friend

Robert Fitzsimmons

Lou Gehrig's Disease

In July of 1939, after nine years of fruitless treatment, multiple sclerosis sufferer Bess Bell Neely took a chance and wrote to baseball legend Lou Gehrig in the hope that he may be able to help. Gehrig himself had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis the previous month following a visible decline in his health for the best part of a year, and on July 2nd he had no choice but to retire from the Yankees. Just two weeks later, he replied to Neely with the following encouraging letter.

Despite the early signs of improvement at Mayo Clinic, Gehrig passed away less than two years later, aged just 37. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis is now known as Lou Gehrig's Disease by many.

Transcript follows.

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Transcript

HOTEL CLEVELAND
CLEVELAND

Sunday-

Dear Mrs. Neely-

It is with deep regret that I read of your condition, sclerosis. However, the condition in which I am afflicted may differ from the way you are infected, so if I told you of my treatments I might be hurting you instead of helping.

I cannot too strongly urge you to visit Mayo Clinic as soon as you see your way clear. You may feel that you cannot afford it but I can assure you they are the most reasonable institution imaginable - and I'm sure they will find out in short order what will prevent growing worse each year. I too was doctoring with no success, and in less than a month I definitely feel they have checked it for me. I have gained about 8 pounds in the last 3 weeks since my return.

A visit now may seem very expensive, but in the long run I believe you will agree it was the cheapest.

May I wish you every success and a quick recovery.

Respectfully,

Lou Gehrig.

Advice for an aspiring architect, in 1931

In December of 1931, as the Great Depression took hold, a young man by the name of Richard Crews wrote to a number of prominent architecture firms in the city of Chicago. Soon to enter the profession himself, Crews was curious to learn about an established architect's typical working day, and so sent letters to local masters of the trade to find out from the best possible source. Four incredibly gracious responses arrived, including the one below; a letter filled with honest, sage and extremely quotable advice from Charles Morgan, a highly regarded architectural artist who in the '20s and '30s provided renderings for a number of large firms such as Frank Lloyd Wright. Had he written it today, I'm sure much of the advice would remain.

Many thanks to F.A. Bernett Books for allowing me to show the letter (which, incidentally, can be bought at their website along with the other three).

Transcript follows.

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CHAS MORGAN A.I.A
ARCHITECTURAL ENGINEERING
thirty third floor 333 north Michigan Ave
CHICAGO

telephone Randolph 6014

MODERN DESIGN
Architectural
Perspectives
Mural
Mosaics

Richard Crews
4524 Malden Avenue
Chicago, Illinois

Dear Richard Crews:

I am sorry to be delayed these few days in answering your letter of Dec. 21st but I shall hasten and do it before the new year.

Of course, you would be more interested in what an architect does in a day's work in normal times, than now. So if you will excuse the liberty I shall make the discussion, or at least the answer, on what an architect should do in a day's work.

An architect should, unless it is impossible, answer his mail the first thing in the morning. Then his mind is free to plan and design upon the problems of his clients. He goes to work planning from within outward just as truly as from the ground upward. There are very few real architects who get big jobs because it is only the politician who gets big jobs, and the politician never has time to be an architect. So by all means the architect should learn to do small jobs well, because of the very fact that if he is sincere he shall probably never get big ones.

The architect should always remember that Jesus was an architect and that to be entitled to the same name he should love truth and beauty above all else.

An architect is too busy to bother much about luncheon. A sandwich at noon is enough. He draws or builds models most of the day because that is an aid to his imagination. Imagination is the only quality that is creative.

Above all else the artist must not copy. Imitate nothing except principle. That is best understood by reading such as Henry Thoreau's "Walden" and of the lives of great people.

A real architect like a good man in any business does not waste any time whatever doing things of which he might be ashamed. He must above all be a sincere artist.

I congratulate you upon your choice and sincerely wish you much strength and happiness. Make no compromise from that which you know is right.

Sincerely yours,

(Signed, 'Charles Morgan, Chicago Associate of Frank Lloyd Wright.')

December 30, 1931
CLM-M

A charming apology from Lewis Carroll

As Tim Burton's take on the story consumes moviegoers across the world, it seems a good opportunity to read a letter or two from the original creator of Alice in Wonderland: Charles Dodgson. Both letters were written by Dodgson - better-known by most under his pseudonym, Lewis Carroll - to a young friend called Isabel Seymour in May of 1869, just four years after the release of the first Alice novel, and concern a railway ticket he had forgotten to pass on to the child. The second letter in particular is a fantastic demonstration of his ability to transform the most ordinary of situations into an entertaining story. 

The letters were kindly supplied by The Rosenbach Museum & Library in Philadelphia; home to one of the finest Lewis Carroll collections in the world where hundreds of related letters, photographs, books - even original drawings by Sir John Tenniel - can be enjoyed. A visit to their website will reveal more. 

Transcripts follow.

First Letter


Second Letter


Transcripts

First Letter

The Chestnuts,
Guildford
May 15, 1869

My dear Isabel,

Words cannot tell how horrified, terrified, petrified (everything ending with "fied," including all my sisters here saying "fie!" when they heard of it) I was when I found that I had carried off your ticket to Guildford. I enquired directly I got there whether ­anything could be done, but found you must have arrived in London some time before I got here. So there was nothing to be done but tear my hair (there is almost none left now), weep, and surrender myself to the police.

I do hope you didn’t suffer any inconvenience on account of my forgetfulness, but you see you would talk so all the way (though I begged you not) that you drove everything out of my head, including the very small portion of brain that is usually to be found there.

Miss Lloyd will never forgive me for it—of that I feel certain. But I have some hope that after many years, when you see me, an aged man on crutches, hobbling to your door, the sternness of your features may relax for a moment, and, holding out the forefinger of your left hand, you may bring yourself to say, "All is forgotten and forgiven."

I hardly dare ask what really happened at Paddington, whether the gentleman and lady, who were in the carriage, helped you out of the difficulty, or whether your maid had money enough, or whether you had to go to prison. If so, never mind: I’ll do my best to get you out, and at any rate you shant be executed.

Seriously, I am so sorry for it, and with all sorts of apologies, I am sincerely yours,

C. L. Dodgson

Second Letter

Ch. Ch. Oxford
May 29, 1869

My dear Isabel,

I was so sorry to hear from Miss Lloyd of your not being well, and I hope you will not think of writing to me about 'Alice' till you are well enough to do so. I only write this on the chance of your being in the humour to read it, or to have it read to you. When you are in that state, I should like you to know the real reason of my having carried off your railway-ticket. You will guess by this, of course, that my last letter was a hoax. Well, you told me, you know, that it was your first railway-journey alone: naturally that set me thinking, "Now what can I do to give her a really exciting adventure?"

Now three plans occurred to me. The first was to wait till the train had started from Reading, and then fire a pistol through your carriage-window, so that the bullet might go near your head and startle you a little. But there were two objections to this plan—one, that I hadn’t got a loaded pistol with me, the other, that the bullet might have gone in at a wrong window, and some people are so stupid, they might not have taken it as a joke.

The second plan was to give you, just as the train left Reading, what should look like a Banbury-cake, but should afterwards turn out to be a rattlesnake. The only objection to this plan was, that they didn’t keep that kind at Reading. They had only common Banbury-cakes, which wouldn’t have done at all.

The third plan was to keep the ticket, so that you might be alarmed when you got to London. Of course I arranged thoroughly with the Guard that the thing was not to be overdone. He was to look a little stern at first, and then gradually to let his expressive features kindle into a smile of benevolence. I was very particular on this point and almost my last words to him were, "Are you sure you can manage the benevolence?" and I made him practice it several times on the platform before I would let him go.

Now you know my whole plan for making your journey a real Adventure. I only hope it succeeded. So, hoping much to hear you are better again, I remain very truly yours,

C. L. Dodgson

P.S. I must tell you candidly that the whole of this letter is a hoax, and that my real reason was—to be able to make you a nice little portable present. Friends suggested a corkscrew, a work-box, or a harmonium: but, as I cleverly remarked, "These are all very well in their way, but you can only use them sometimes—whereas a railway ticket is always handy!" Have I chosen well?