title: Dear Helen: Wartime Letters from a Londoner to Her American Pen Pal
author: Russell M. Jones
description: A shared interest in movies brought Betty Swallow of London and Helen Bradley of Kansas City, MO, together as correspondents (they met through writing to <i>Picture Play</i> magazine), from 1938 through World War II and until 1950. This volume presents faithful transcriptions of Betty's letters to Helen, which are now in the collections of Westminster College in Fulton, MO. Betty writes with verve, wit, and strong opinions about her work, family, politics, fears, frustrations, leisure-time pursuits, and her abiding love for various stage and screen stars, especially John Gielgud. Her letters are detailed yet conversational; for example, during the Blitz she might describe the terrible air raid the night before but also ask Helen to send a particular movie magazine to boost morale. Betty's writings become not just a portrait of herself, including her strong and disturbing anti-Semitism, but of London life at an extraordinary time. There are a few distracting editorial mistakes, including a failure to understand British slang, but the footnotes about personalities and films no longer popular are helpful. Specialists and general readers will both appreciate this book.Megan Hahn Fraser, UCLA Lib. <br />Copyright  Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
zlib_text: CHAPTER I
  Stolen Letters
  “OH, poor Ira!” Nancy Drew exclaimed and slowed her convertible.
  The two girls with her turned to look toward the sidewalk. Trudging along
  was an elderly mail carrier. He was lugging a heavy bag over one shoulder.
  His head was down and his eyes were almost closed against the strong
  November wind that swirled leaves and dirt around him.
  “Mr. Nixon!” Nancy called out of her open window. “Let me give you a
  ride.”
  The mail carrier looked up and managed a smile. “Hello, Nancy,” he said.
  “Thank you, but I have to stop at every house. Lots of letters today. There’s
  one in the bottom of my bag for you. It was sent air mail from London,
  England.”
  “How exciting!” Nancy said. “Well, I’ll see you at the house.” She added,
  “I’ll have some hot cocoa waiting for you.”
  Mr. Nixon smiled and Nancy drove on.
  “I don’t know anyone in London,” she said to her friends. “Who could be
  writing to me?”
  1
  The attractive, titian-blond, blue-eyed girl at once became lost in thought.
  “Anothe