[language
warning] "(I just took time out for a bike ride.) We travelled up to Wall Street, a gold mining
center -- 12 miles up Four Mile Canyon.
Unfortunately the place is still deserted. We looked at the equipment - narrow gauge railroads,
etc. - but didn't see a soul. Either
they haven't gone back to work yet or else the town's population had all ceased
activity for a Saturday night in Boulder.
However, the rusty padlocks with which mine entrance doors were sealed
shut seemed to indicate that no one had entered in quite some time. I'd like to make another expedition up
later. If we could contact some
old-timer - 'sourdoughs', I think they're called - we could probably get a nice
background on gold mining history in these parts….
"Evidently
the rules on secrecy here have been relaxed to a certain extent. Names of graduates are now being read at
graduation ceremonies, etc; so the publication of my name in the Gazette
probably won't make any difference.
After all it'd be a little simpler for Nip spys to slip into graduation
exercises than to read all hometown newspapers in the country. That is if they care about learning who language
men are."
-- Letter from my father, Boulder, Colo., to his family, Bloomington, Kans., Saturday,
July 7, 1945.
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