It was a love letter.

Well, it was more than that, as you’ll see.

It was postmarked December 23, 8 a.m., 1953 — Washington, NC.

The addressee was Sally S. Wagner, 17 Plymouth Avenue, So., Groton, Conn. A 6-cents Air Mail stamp was affixed.

The stationery letterhead had on it: Designed For The Comfort of The Commercial Traveler — Louise Hotel — European Plan — Washington, North Carolina. Dated 22 Dec. 53 — Tuesday.

The letter began:

“My Darling,

“Possibly you will receive this letter on Xmas day or the day after. If so, I sincerely hope that you have an enjoyable one. You know that my heart and prayers are with you every minute. They say that Christmas is for children — if that is so, I do hope that you haven’t grown up.

“The date of Christmas is the only thing that brings it close to me now. I just can’t capture the spirit until I get home.

“The last two days have been awfully good. By this I mean that I’ve kept real busy. It takes time to get your feet on the ground in any game. Every day I learn something new, gain more confidence, and like my work all the more.

“Right now I am mad as hell at my secretary. She stuck me in this town tonite — for she looks at my routing and picks out the best hotels along the way, from a hotel guide book. If I had ever been here before I would have known better.

“However, she picked out the Hotel Keys in Washington. Upon my arrival I found out that the health dept. closed it over a year ago. So — I am staying at the next best. Either the health dept. is lazy as hell — or they are afraid to come here.

“Have always wanted to project my life into the past — but not like this.

“My room: it has one overhead light, however the ceiling is so high that the light is rather weak when it gets down here. The light must have a scalloped shade above it — can’t see that far from here, but I can see its gruesome outline above the wall.

“The bathroom is a honey. You have heard of step-in-baths; well, you step up into this one. Its floor level is a good foot higher than the bedroom floor. Will probably break my darned neck during the night. That is why I am writing now. The only thing that could be exciting about the bath is the tub. It is mounted on four very handsome legs with claw-and-ball feet. It could be handsome if the claws weren’t so dirty. Oh — there is a skylight above the tub. Am dying for the morn to come to see how it works. Hope the sun is up.

“Can’t say much for the bedroom. Hate to talk about furniture. But in one corner we have a large stick. It in turn has eight nails protruding from its head. Don’t know what it is called — must be something new. But, being as I don’t have a closet I find it most convenient to hang my pants on.

“Now in the middle of the room we have a giant metal cage with huge bars. I take it to be a bed, for in the center there is a mattress. Won’t go into the mattress now — will do that later. But the bars intrigue me. They could be used for chaining wives to, or for your morning exercise. I don’t indulge in either of these activities. In fact, I am tired of worrying about their use — so don’t ask me.

“Let’s look out the window. What a lovely (lovely crossed out) sight. We are seeing Main St. in Washington, NC. Thousands (thousands crossed out) no, hundreds (hundreds crossed out) no, fifties of people are milling around doing their Xmas shopping. They are as excited as if they were going to a mule or a tobacco auction. And on out Main St. we have our brightly colored lights extending all the way across the street. From one ramshackle to another. They express more than Xmas spirit — it looks more like a carnival.

“It isn’t my nature to talk about people and what they have to offer — when they don’t have much to begin with. I didn’t mean to be rude …”

What followed was of a personal nature, much of it expressing his gratitude for his Sally. It is quite touching.

He ended it with “I love you, Sally. Leo”

Now. This is the really interesting, many-years-after, irony: His beloved Sally, his daughter Judy, and his son Trip, all live in — Washington. Right smack dab here.

What would Leo Bliley have thought!

Note — He included in that letter a small display ad for “A. D. Walker, Dealers in Horses and Mules. Tel. 896–J — 829 Hackney Ave.”