Dear
Milton: Your friends, Dr. and Mrs. Osborne, spent a few hours with us last evening.1 They arrived about six o'clock and remained through dinner and a movie. Before dinner, Dr. Osborne explained his ideas concerning the farm at Gettysburg--but, when time came for the movie, I went to bed and did not see him after.
Obviously, Dr. Osborne has given a world of thought to our personal problem at the farm, and he has been assisted by Mrs. Osborne and by Helen as well.2
It is quite clear to me that he has arrived at the best possible solution for the situation, so long as we assume that Mamie and I are to stay there and plan on making the place our future home.3 I am a little fearful that Mamie is making a mistake, but I am so anxious to give her an outside interest that will pull her away from Washington occasionally, that I am quite ready to go along with her, even at a financial cost that would otherwise not be justified.
In this latter regard, my fear is that, if we put a total of some forty or fifty thousand dollars more in the Gettysburg farm, we will have a future "white elephant"--something that could not possibly be sold by our heirs at a reasonable price.
The remodeling of the house itself, including the installation of proper utilities, will certainly run to some thirty or thirty-five thousand dollars. Dr. Osborne is going to give me drawings on an additional wing--then I am going to submit the whole thing to Charlie Tompkins for a rough estimate.4 You see, we are talking now about the building of five or six extra rooms (including at least four additional baths), the rehabilitation of the entire house, and the installation of proper utilities.
Add to all this the building of a suitable dwelling for a tenant and his family, and you can see that the thing will cost a very considerable sum. This does not frighten me in the least so far as Mamie and I are concerned. But I do worry some about two aspects of the thing: The first would be the ability of Mamie and me, through legal gifts, to pass title of the house largely to our children before our own death. The second would be the capacity of the youngsters to keep the place going (servants and so on) when they were actually on their own. Even if our children could do this, the prospect for our grandchildren would not be good--not with the continuation of current trends in our economy and society.
From this viewpoint, it might be better for us to try to dispose of this particular place and buy a small, fairly modern, establishment in any of the States of Virginia, Maryland, or Pennsylvania. But I repeat that Mamie's heart seems to be settled on this one--and that settles it, so far as I am concerned. Even if we should lose all the money we put into it, this would, after all, be no great tragedy--because all I am anxious to do for the youngsters is to make sure they have a good education and a reasonable start. In these days and times, you can't do any more for children anyway.
I started this letter merely to tell you how attractive and how cooperative I found your two friends. We are looking forward to coming up there on the ninth and, undoubtedly, we shall see them again at that time.5
With love to Helen and the family and, of course, all the best to yourself, As ever
P.S. Of course, I have not accepted Nelson's resignation.6
