What joy yesterday when I received 3 letters from you – 22, 24 and 25 July. Those are the first letters in some while and it’s maddening, dear, to realize that mail can get here in a week – and most often doesn’t. Anyway, darling, they made me happy because whether I’ve told you by now or not – I love to read that you love me, miss me, want me – as much as I do you.
There’s no doubt in my mind at all, sweetheart, that these are more trying times than even in combat. Certainly it’s so – over here. The waiting is almost interminable and the uncertainty equally as aggravating. Your letters, darling, make all the difference in the world and I miss them terribly when they don’t arrive. I have so darn much time in which to think; each day is like the other and I just don’t seem to be getting anywhere. I owe about 20 letters to various people and I just don’t have the ambition or desire to sit down and write anyone except you and the folks. No, sweetheart, I’m not having a breakdown; I’ve just got a lot of energy and I don’t want to expend it there.
I went to the movies last nite and saw “Those Endearing Young Charms” with L. Day and R. Young. It was sweet enough – but you just can’t see a movie over here anymore that has soldiers in it and listen to it intelligibly. They hoot, jeer and cheer – and believe me, dear – usually with good reason – because most of them are so obviously phony – it is laughable. I thought the plot in this picture just too trite for me – however it was dressed up – and if I never see another picture showing a fellow saying “goodbye” to his girl – it will be O.K. with me. It just makes me a bit too sad and reminiscent. I don’t know how dramatic our own “goodbye” was, sweetheart, but it was sincere and true and that’s what counts.
Oh I also got a letter from Dad A – he had had 3 days of his vacation and was apparently enjoying it. He said he had received a card from you in Portland and that he was expecting you, Mother and Dad B over on one of the Sundays.
And I’m so glad you had a little diversion in Portland. It sounded like fun and boy how I’d have loved to have been driving you around in a convertible instead of some other Joe. No – I’m not jealous, dear, because I know I can trust you and your affection. And I felt good to know that other men find you attractive, darling, although I knew it anyway. Heck – I’m fussier than most guys, I think, and I find you very attractive to me. But a guy likes to think that his sweetheart is desirable. Yup, honey, I’m coming home tout suite – i.e. to say, as tout suite as the Army will let me. Oh – before I change the subject – I’m kind of glad you didn’t stay that extra week – And take it easy, dear, when you go swimming alone. There’s no sense going out too far or too long. You need me along – then we’ll go together. I’m glad you like the water – because I do too.
Well, darling, I’ll close now. I do miss you and want you – something fierce. My love gets stronger and stronger, dear. Do you feel it??
Love to the folks – and
Helen Brandt and her mother have moved from their small town of Ellsworth Falls to New York City, where Helen is employed as a perfume clerk at a department store and Mrs. Brandt works for the war relief effort. Jerry, a home town boy who has just returned from serving in France, is trying to woo Helen, but she only thinks of him as a "pal." While eating at a café one day, Jerry meets his college buddy, Lieutenant Hank Travers, a pilot in the Air Force, and begins to rhapsodize about Helen. Hank, a cynical philanderer, is intrigued by Jerry's description and insists upon accompanying him on his date with Helen that night. To monopolize Helen's time, Hank invites Mrs. Brandt to join them dancing and she accepts. At the club, Mrs. Brandt begins crying when the band plays the song "Those Endearing Young Charms," and Helen realizes that her mother is crying for her long-lost love, Jerry's father.
After taking Helen and Mrs. Brandt home that night, Hank waits for Mrs. Brandt to retire, then tries to romance Helen. Although she is attracted to Hank, Helen realizes that he is not serious about her and asks him to leave. The next day at work, however, Helen is distracted by thoughts of Hank, and when he leaves a message for her to phone him later that night, she eagerly returns his call. When Mrs. Brandt warns her daughter that Hank is dishonorable, Helen reminds her that she lost Jerry's father because she was afraid to pursue him. The next day, Hank convinces Helen's supervisor to give her the day off and drives Helen to the army airfield. There, Hank learns that he has a two-day reprieve before leaving for the front, but to put pressure on Helen, he tells her that he is leaving right away and bids her farewell. That night, Helen returns home distraught and tells her mother that she is in love with Hank.
Laraine Day, 1945
Soon after, Hank calls to inform Helen that his mission has been fogged in, and Helen agrees to meet him at the club. From the club, Hank drives Helen to the seashore, where her loving endearments force him to admit that he lied about leaving in order to manipulate her into falling in love with him. Dejected, Helen returns home and Hank goes back to his hotel room, where he learns that his leave has been canceled. Realizing that he is in love with Helen, Hank rushes to her apartment to beg her forgiveness, but Helen orders him to leave. Recognizing Hank's sincerity, Mrs. Brandt urges Helen to go after him, and as they embrace on the airstrip, minutes before Hank is to take off, Helen promises to wait for him.
|Movie "Lobby Card"|
Here is The New York Times review, written by Bosley Crowther and published on 20 June 1945.
As long as we have dime-store fiction and movies that imitate same we will probably have such pictures as RKO's "Those Endearing Young Charms." And as long as we have such pictures as this one that came to the Palace yesterday there will probably be young ladies who will greet them with "ohs" and "ahs." So there's no use in being disagreeable about this silly little film in which a virtuous shop-girl falls in love with an Air Force "wolf."
There's no use, for instance, in remarking that it is all a romantic cliché in which love and the little lady's virtue overcome the gentleman's dark designs. Nor is there further use in observing that the values are conventionally smug—that the little lady picks the smooth lieutenant in preference to a bouncing Pfc., that the smoothie has a pocket full of money and that he knows all the fashionable ways. And there's no point in passing critical judgment on an obviously artificial script, on slickly mechanical direction and performances in a make-believe style.
The audience with which this writer saw the picture yesterday was made up, quite obviously, of shop-girls released for the Eisenhower parade. They seemed to love this tickling eyewash. So what's a fellow to say?