“Oh, you poor little boy. Can’t take it like the rest of us in the real world. Goody Goody.”
Yes, Big Boy. I can take it and more. Though I don’t want my Presidents speaking publicly like they are in the bleacher seats at Yankee Stadium. Call me old-fashioned. Or, maybe the Donald can make a really mean label for me.
"Miss Truman is a unique American phenomenon with a pleasant voice of little size and fair quality (she) cannot sing very well is flat a good deal of the time more last night than at any time we have heard her in past years has not improved in the years we have heard her (and) still cannot sing with anything approaching professional finish."
President Truman responded with the following letter to Hume:
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON
Dec. 6, 1950
Mr. Hume:
I've just read your lousy review of Margaret's concert. I've come to the conclusion that you are an "eight ulcer man on four ulcer pay."
It seems to me that you are a frustrated old man who wishes he could have been successful. When you write such poppy-cock as was in the back section of the paper you work for it shows conclusively that you're off the beam and at least four of your ulcers are at work.
Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below!
Pegler, a gutter snipe, is a gentleman alongside you. I hope you'll accept that statement as a worse insult than a reflection on your ancestry.
H.S.T.