Bess Truman by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online Page B

from or even thought about in the nine years that had passed since her graduation from Independence High School: Harry Truman. In his hand was an empty cake plate.
    Madge Gates Wallace often baked cakes and pies and sent samples to the neighbors. It was the only kind of cooking she enjoyed. Harry’s cousins, the Nolands, now lived at 216 North Delaware, the house across the street. They had recently received one of these gifts and had asked Harry Truman if he would like to return the plate. He had accepted, they later recalled, “with something approaching the speed of light.”
    “Aunt Ella told me to thank your mother for the cake,” Harry said. “I guess I ought to thank her, too. I ate a big piece.”
    “Come in,” Bess said.

 
    The twenty-six-year-old Harry Truman that twenty-five-year-old Bess Wallace saw in the porch lamplight on that summer night in 1910 had changed in interesting ways from the quiet, scholarly, non-athlete she had mostly ignored in school. This man had gained weight and muscle. There was a solidity to his shoulders, a physical self-confidence in his erect stance. His skin was tanned and wind-burned and glowing with the health that comes from constant exercise. How in the world had Four Eyes turned into this rugged looking specimen of vitality?
    Bess Wallace may have heard that Harry had become a bank teller after the family had moved to Kansas City. A perfect job for him, she probably thought. But that wind-burned skin, those calloused hands were not acquired in a bank. Mere curiosity, aside from friendly feelings, no doubt impelled Bess Wallace to invite Harry Truman into the Gates parlor. There, he was greeted by Mrs. Wallace and the Gates family and perhaps by one or two of Bess’ three brothers. After the ritual thanks for the cake, the older and younger folks probably let the ex-schoolmates go out on the porch and catch up with each other.
    Harry was no longer working at the Union National Bank in Kansas City, although he had done well there, winning a series of raises and promotions. He was a farmer, helping his father and his brother Vivian run the 600-acre Young farm in Grandview. Harry’s mother and his uncle, Harrison Young, had inherited it from his grandmother, Harriet Louisa Young, when she died in 1909. It was hard work, but he enjoyed it - and it paid a lot better than a bank. In a good year, the farm could clear $7,000, and his share of that would be about $4,000. There also was the prospect of inheriting the whole works, or a good chunk of it, when his Uncle Harrison and his mother died.
    He was also a part-time soldier, which helped to explain his square-shouldered stance. In 1905, he had joined Battery B of the Missouri National Guard and spent a few weeks each summer training with them. He had been promoted to corporal, which pleased him. Bess no doubt was surprised to learn that Harry had hoped to become a professional soldier and had taken special tutoring for the entrance examination for West Point the year after they graduated from high school. One day, it occurred to him that he ought to take a preliminary eye test at the Army Recruiting Station in Kansas City. They told him he did not have a chance to get into the U.S. Military Academy. So he decided to get a taste of military life, at least, in Battery B.
    Harry may have amused Bess with the story of his grandmother’s reaction when he came out to the farm in his National Guard uniform one day. All Harriet Louisa Young could think about were the gloating Kansans who had burned and looted the farm in the course of executing Order No. 11 in 1863. She told Harry never to wear his uniform home again.
    The passions of the Civil War had become quaint, almost amusing, to the younger generation. I don’t know what else Harry and Bess talked about that night, but the visit lasted two hours. When Harry returned to the Noland home, his eyes were aglow. “Well, I saw her,” he said.
    There is a glimpse of the awe and