Marion Post Wolcott: Photographing FSA Cheesecake
To help gain congressional approval and public support for expensive and controversial New Deal programs, a documentary photography project was established in 1935 in the Resettlement Administration (RA), and became in 1937 part of the newly created Farm Security Administration (FSA). Under the direction of Roy Stryker, the Historical Section documented the need for various relief, recovery, and reform measures sponsored by Franklin D. Roosevelt through photographs of the many social and economic privations suffered by the bottom third of the nation. “The photograph was chosen as the most effective medium,” David Turner has observed, “because of its truthfulness and believability.”
1 Between 1935 and 1942 a total of nearly thirty photographers were hired by FSA (with never more than six photographers working at one time), and over the eight-year life of the project these photographers took some 270,000 photographs.
In 1938 the highly respected photographers Paul Strand and Ralph Steiner enthusiastically recommended to FSA a female photographer, Marion Post, who was young, short on formal training, and relatively inexperienced, but loaded with talent. Marion Post was born in Montclair, New Jersey, in 1910. Her parents, a physician and a trained nurse, provided an upwardly mobile existence for Marion and her sister while developing their own careers. Marion received a degree in child psychology and education from New York University, studied modern dance with Ruth St. Denis and Doris Humphrey, traveled in Europe, took courses at the University of Vienna, and taught at a progressive, private school in New York until her interest in photography squeezed all other pursuits out. She then got involved in the New York Film and Photo League, did some free-lance photography, and became the only woman on the photography staff of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. She eagerly sought the position of FSA photographer, even though it would require her to give up much of her personal life and spend long, lonely stretches in the field, because she had become bored with doing society-page and garden-party-type events, and wanted to do photography that was challenging, creative, and constructive.
3 “I felt I could actually contribute something important, work that might inform and influence the American people and effect legislative reforms. Be a crusader!”
Marion joined FSA at a propitious turning point. Although various FSA photographers had already taken many photographs in the South, Stryker recognized that there were blind spots in the file. He noted that the agency had extensive coverage of cotton, for example, but not a single photograph showing hands actually picking the staple. He consequently directed Marion to take some “very close up” shots of hands grasping cotton bolls, and he kept adding neglected subjects and scenes to her shooting list.
5 Stryker also recognized that the early emphasis of the FSA on the ravages of the Great Depression had created a distorted picture and nearsighted file. He now wanted to play up the progress made by federal programs and the positive features of American life. “Emphasize the idea of abundance, the horn of plenty, and pour maple syrup all over it. You know, mix well with white clouds to put on a sky blue platter,” Stryker once informed Marion. “I know your damn photographer soul writhes, but the hell with it.”
While Stryker wanted to emphasize the progressive nature of the New Deal and the upbeat side of America, he never intended to produce only sugar-coated photographs. Stryker would always be concerned about the have-nots of society, pay attention to the underside of history, and refuse to look at the world through only rose-tinted glasses. He repeatedly withheld photographs, for instance, from one-sided museum exhibitions, even though the exposure would be great publicity for FSA. “The Director wants sweet and lovely ‘art’ from us; the nicest of Walker Evans,” Stryker wrote to Marion regarding one gallery’s request. “He will have to use some of our brutal stuff or we won’t play ball.”
7 What Roy Stryker and the FSA Historical Section offered Marion, then, was the opportunity of a lifetime—the chance to continue to take photographs showing this country’s frailties and the need for change and reform as well as images highlighting this nation’s strengths and accomplishments already underway. “She photographed the rich as well as the poor, and bountiful land as well as land abused,” photography historian and critic Hank O’Neal has written. “In fact, she focused on virtually every aspect of life in the South and the file is much more varied as a result.”
Sending Post out on the road was a bridge that Stryker crossed with much caution. The FSA director was always concerned about the safety of his photographers when out in the field. He was worried in particular about the women being either hurt, taken advantage of, or misunderstood. Stryker was especially concerned about Marion being more vulnerable than the others. While Dorothea Lange was forty years old when she joined the agency, Marion had only turned twenty-eight. While Lange was married and commonly traveled in the safety of her husband, Marion was single and journeyed alone. And while Lange was a mature and cautious woman, Marion was frequently intrepid, adventuresome, and reckless. Stryker consequently felt that Marion’s first field trip should be short and close to headquarters. When Post departed for the coal fields of West Virginia, a protective Arthur Rothstein provided her with a hatchet to be packed in her luggage for protection against possible marauders.
While Marion was appalled by the poor health of the people in West Virginia, she was even more surprised that they were not as apathetic as she had expected. She came across some people who were “beaten down,” but Post was amazed to find that most residents still harbored “hopes” and possessed “drive.” Time and time again throughout her FSA career, Post would be impressed by the resiliency of the American people. On this first assignment Marion remembered consciously trying to take pictures like the ones that she had seen in the file, a practice which quickly wore off as she moved through the state.
After this in-the-field baptism in West Virginia, Post returned to Washington headquarters for further familiarization with FSA operations, and then departed on extensive assignments primarily in the South. Stryker cautioned her to be very circumspect in the region because “Negro people are put in a very difficult spot when white women attempt to interview or photograph them.”
11 Post abruptly learned there were many social and cultural proscriptions in the South that she had to be, as both a woman and a photographer, cautious about. Despite the liberal and experimental relief, recovery, and reform activities taking place under Franklin D.Roosevelt in Washington, Post found the South to be still very isolated, backward, suspicious, intolerant, and resistant to change. Her experiences in the South provided a window for viewing not simply different attempts at modernization during the New Deal, but various ingredients going into making a distinctive regional character.
Post drove into South Carolina in a car loaded down with equipment and personal belongings, and dressed in a brightly colored outfit, a bandana scarf over her long and bushy hair, and dangling earrings. She quickly discovered that it was a mistake to be conspicuous in appearance. “They began dragging their kids away, thought that I was a gypsy, only a modern gypsy in an automobile, and that I would come in and kidnap their children. Certainly I was not understood, and was a foreigner,” Post reported on the experience. “And they…told me to get out, and were disagreeable about it…. They were very backwoods and very primitive, and I just got out.”
Although Post modified her approach and appearance as she moved through the swampy lowlands of South Carolina, the people remained “very suspicious” and “quite unfriendly.” She found that cold weather made them even more distant and inaccessible. “They get in their huts or shacks, build a little fire, and close the wooden window and door and hug their arms close to them, waiting till it gets warm again. And they won’t let a stranger inside. Often they won’t even let me photograph the outside of the house.” She learned that milling around the outside of a shack was a bad practice. Usually a neighbor or relative, having either heard Post’s car or seen her, showed up to find out if the local resident needed any help with the stranger. “Most of the people who would talk at all, said more or less the same thing—that they didn’t like for no strangers to come bothering around because they mostly played ‘dirty tricks’ on them or brought bad luck.” Post tried different lines of persuasion. She carried along food, candy, and other bribes. “Along the bigger roads, they were very commercialized—immediately asked for money, and no nickels or dimes, or food either—real money. And even then they’d just stand up in front like stiffs and not move until you ‘snapped it and left.’” Overall, Post had a very difficult time in South Carolina because the people indicated that they hadn’t asked for any handouts, and in return expected to be left alone.
Stryker, who already harbored all sorts of apprehensions over the perils of a female photographer on the road alone, was greatly distressed by Post’s accounts. “I am glad that you have now learned that you can’t depend on the wiles of femininity when you are in the wilds of the South,” Stryker admonished her. “Colorful bandanas and brightly colored dresses, etc., aren’t part of our photographer’s equipment. The closer you keep to what the great back-country recognizes as the normal dress for women, the better you are going to succeed as a photographer.” Stryker indicated that Russell Lee and Arthur Rothstein had to learn a similar lesson with clothing. Lee wore a skyblue jacket covered with all kinds of pockets until the backcountry people indicated that it was out of place and Lee stashed it away. “I know this will probably make you mad, but I can tell you another thing—that slacks aren’t part of your attire when you are in the back country. You are a woman, and a woman can’t never be a man!”
Stryker’s admonition hit a very sensitive nerve. Post admitted that everything “grandfather” Stryker said was probably true, but she asked him to consider her side. All photographers desperately needed clothing with pockets, and the storage of photographic supplies posed a particularly difficult problem for women. “Female photographers look slightly conspicuous and strange with too many film pack magazines and rolls and synchronizers stuffed in their shirt fronts, and too many filters and what nots held between the teeth prevent one from asking many necessary questions.”
15 Post indicated that she had already shopped around in several cities in everything from army and navy stores to bargain basements for clothing that had appropriate pockets, color, and fit, and would be cool and washable. While Post challenged her boss to look through department stores and catalogs to find proper attire for her, she also attempted to accommodate his dress code and conform to local standards.
Post tried photographing vegetable fields in the South while wearing a skirt. After insects, briars, and raspy grasses scratched up her skin, she decided to wear whatever was most practical and protective. She informed Stryker, “My slacks are dark blue, old, dirty, and not too tight—OK? To be worn with great discrimination, sir.” On another occasion she reminded Stryker that it was difficult for a photographer in the field to look as neat and proper as a photographer in a studio. “I’ll send you a pretty picture of me too—in my usual uncombed sweaty state. What clothes of mine haven’t been ruined or rotted by sweat, have suffered the same fate from mildew.”
Although Post took considerable pride in not being what she herself called a “sissy,” she also discovered that traveling alone in the rural South was very risky and frightening. She reported that after dark everything closed up, and people went to bed, leaving only drunk and tough bums and derelicts on the prowl. “If anything goes wrong you’re just out of luck,” she wrote from Montezuma, Georgia, “and no one understands it if a girl is out alone after dark—believe it or not.” Stryker had earlier instructed her to stay off the roads and remain indoors after sunset. “I would feel very upset if anything should happen to you while doing our work,” the director had informed her. “To hell with the work when night comes. Find yourself a nice safe place and settle down.” Both Post and Stryker agreed that evenings should be safely spent checking equipment, changing and packing supplies, captioning photographs, and planning the next day’s itinerary.
17 Post enjoyed driving her convertible around the South with the top down, drinking in the bright sunshine during the day and the pleasant breeze in the evening. But she found that some people confused the deep brown tan she acquired with minority group membership, while others saw her as a loose woman. “I’d at least like to be able to go for a little ride in the country with the top down on the car,” she complained while driving through Morehead, Kentucky, “but good girls in the mountains in this country don’t ever ride around after dark! And since I’m trying to make a ‘good’ first impression, I must do as the natives do. Ain’t it awful.”
Post quite innocently ran into considerable hostility left over from the earlier documentary efforts of Erskine Caldwell and Margaret Bourke-White. In 1937 Caldwell and Bourke-White published You Have Seen Their Faces, a devastating broadside to southern delinquencies. Bourke-White’s photographs showed that stunted, starved, and stolid individuals were not part of Caldwell’s fictional imagination, but that deformed, diseased, and desperate people actually existed extensively in the South. Galdwell’s hard-hitting text blamed an exploitive and repressive hierarchy of politicians, planters, and preachers for the region’s illiteracy, diseases, racial prejudice, and religious bigotry. “Many plantation owners, operators, and managers who thoroughly disapproved of her book…mistrusted any other girl photographer,” Post found out, “and had to be convinced I was not Bourke-White and had no intention of making similar photographic documents.” The backlash Post encountered revealed that the documentaries of the 1930s circulated widely and often left a deep and lasting impression. Although some southerners did not distinguish between the documentary efforts of FSA and independent artists, there were wide differences in approach and content. While FSA photographers could not afford to antagonize congressional authorities with exposés of their districts, Caldwell and Bourke-White could pursue free-wheeling and damning indictments. This residual hostility simply made Post’s assignments more difficult and educated her on the various hazards of documentary photography.
Post also found that World War II had caused many southerners to be extremely cautious and suspicious. She reported that the international conflict made southerners “hysterically war and fifth column minded.” In Louisiana, Cajun children were so frightened by her camera equipment that they ran home, hid from her, and brought parents in from the bayous with harrowing stories of how she was “a German spy with a machine gun.” “Several times when I’ve had the car parked along side the road and taken pix nearby, a cop or state trooper has come up, watched me, examined the cameras and searched through the car, and questioned and looked at all my identification, etc.,” Post reported during the summer of 1940. “The bastards can take their own sweet time about it and ask many irrelevant and sometimes personal and slightly impertinent questions too.” The sheriff would bring her in for questioning, make her write her signature, and end up just talking with her. “They haven’t anything else to do and they don’t feel like working anyway it’s too hot, and they think you’re crazy anyhow.” These encounters with witch-hunting law enforcement officials in the South prompted Post to recommend to Washington that FSA photographers be provided with some special identification card with a notarized seal partially over the picture.
As Post traveled through the South, she checked in with regional FSA people and local contacts who were to facilitate her assignments by providing background information, lining up people and places to photograph, and serving as tour guides. While some of these people were knowledgeable and helpful, many were a handicap. Post found that her contacts operated at a much more leisurely pace than she did. She had to wait around until her host was ready, then the guide might insist on dragging his wife along, and finally the tour would deteriorate into a sight-seeing excursion. “Unless you strike just the right guy, which is very rare, you have to see so many other things that you don’t want to photograph and explain why not, and then return another time to try to get the people to be less self-conscious with you, alone. I find, most of the time, it’s better to start out by yourself.”
Sometimes the local contact neglected to make previous arrangements with rehabilitation families for photographs. This meant that Post had to do all of the work from contacting local welfare case workers to locating the families herself. “I had to go out and get the families, scrub the children, dress them, and drag them downtown, and then cook their dinner,” an exasperated Post reported. “It was difficult and practically impossible to get a man for the pix, as they were either working on W.P.A., or drunk, or in the hospital, or refused to do it.”
22 Other times feuds between agencies proved debilitating. Upon reaching Jackson, Kentucky, Marion met with FSA people, and walked around town with them. Jealous rivals in the AAA encouraged a county judge to haul Marion before his court to answer questions about her activities. “It was funny because the whole town was full of people (Labor Day) and got all stirred up over it and followed me in a big procession to the court house—all crowding around the judge afterwards to see my papers and getting into arguments about spies and 5th columnists, etc.”
From time to time, Post was asked to do some “missionary” work; take along some representative from a church group who hoped to arouse Christians to the plight of the downtrodden by collecting and disseminating information. Post was deeply distressed by a representative from the Federal Council of Churches who harped on “daily Bible reading for the kiddies” and “service on Sunday for all the folks.” “After a whole day of that crap and listening to their playing Jesus I could just plain puke!” Post would wear these traveling companions down by making them lug her photographic equipment around and by getting them into debates with “ribald and lusty” opponents who argued in “plain English.”
Post’s trips with welfare workers in the South turned out to be just as distressing and depressing experiences. In visits around Memphis, Post noticed that Negro and welfare families had a serious problem with a “chronic-male-transient” in the house and “illegitimate children by the dozen.” During one visit Post observed a case worker take a pregnant welfare recipient to task for breaking her promise to lead a good Christian life. “Well ma’am,” the black woman replied, “I’se sorry but I had to make the rent somehow.” The lecture on morals in light of this woman’s struggle for survival irritated Post. “Jesus Christ these social workers are fierce, inhuman, stupid prigs. I can’t call them enough names. I was literally sick to my stomach after a day visiting their ‘cases’ with these two. They love to humiliate people.”
Marion recorded from around the South critical reactions to federal programs and bureaucratic foul-ups. Due to highly inclement winter weather, a lot of independent farmers in Florida wanted to plant half of their land in durable sugar cane instead of fragile vegetables. But federal quota regulations prohibited the expansion. The farmers petitioned Washington to change the laws so that they would be “self-supporting and self-respecting citizens supplying the needs of fellow Americans.” The federal government’s reluctance to relax quotas irritated farmers and made the Department of Agriculture as unpopular as rattlesnakes in Florida.
26 On another occasion, Marion reported how buildings at migrant camps in the Sunshine State were inappropriately designed. Just as soon as the federal government released construction funds, local agencies rushed into building projects. Instead of erecting shelters tailored to Florida’s conditions, the government tried to transplant California concepts. “Consequently the people are prostrate from the heat, poor ventilation in those tin and metal shelters (cold in the winter), and holes and cracks for mosquitoes and flies by the millions, and screening too large so that special little biting gnats, that chew around one’s eyes, nose, and mouth, can come right through. It’s really disgusting,” she remarked. “Every place I visit it’s the same story—something fundamentally wrong with the original planning, construction, or set up, causing the whole program to suffer. It’s a mess…they make enough surveys and investigations and studies and recommendations. No wonder people get exasperated, critical.”
Despite the massive infusion of federal funds by the New Deal, Marion found that the standard of living in the South lagged behind the rest of the nation. She was “amazed and shocked at the backwardness of the Kentucky mountain country.” “I didn’t realize that it was still this way in this country,” she once remarked.
28 Nothing revealed southern shortcomings to her more directly than the region’s transportation facilities. Convenient, reliable, and safe transportation was crucial for Marion to carry out her assignments. Yet she found road, rail, and bus transportation to be incomplete and inadequate, and southerners adapting to conditions. “The roads are awful, and often one must go back and try another way, or walk across the field and such because the car is too low,” she reported after one rainstorm in the deep South. “Their trucks and old cars are higher and will go over and through anything.”
29 Public transportation was even worse. A trip from New Orleans to Belle Glade, Florida, by train would take two days and one night. “Trains to Belle Glade, Florida, are hopeless. Slow—I would have to change twice and then wait for a bus from West Palm Beach to Belle Glade. But most important is that I’ve got to have a car, or the use of one, while there— because the nearest place to stay is about 20 or 25 miles away.”
30 While the South was modernizing and advancing, there was a tremendous amount of catching up to do, and it would be slow and painful.
Living out of a suitcase, eating in one greasy spoon after another, and moving from one town to the next day after day was a tough mental and physical grind that at times wore Post down and frayed her nerves. She became irritated over repetitive questions on whether she was Emily Post, or what was that contraption dangling from her neck. “In general, I’m most tired of the strain of continually adjusting to new people, making conversation, getting acquainted, being polite and diplomatic when necessary,” she wrote in July 1939. “In particular I’m sick of people telling me that the cabin or room costs the same for one as it does for two, of listening to people, or the ‘call’ girl make love in the adjoining room. Or of hearing everyone’s bathroom habits, hangovers, and fights through the ventilator.”
Stryker realized exactly how physically and mentally grueling operating as a photographer on the road could be. He had a “gossip sheet” circulated to keep people in the field apprised of what their colleagues were doing and what was going on at headquarters, and he periodically brought photographers in from the road. He was always reassuring field people to keep their spirits and morale high. “Don’t let rain, government red tape, or newspaper bosses get you down. When you get back we will go over and kick hell out of a few of them. Better tear up this letter since I prefer to say these things directly to the person concerned.”
On one of her periodic trips back to Washington in 1941, Marion Post married Leon Wolcott. Initially she hoped to continue her FSA work and maintain their marriage. However, lengthy separations, and long stretches on the road, created an unbearable loneliness. “It’s sort of awful to be separated from someone you love very much, for a long period, and at a great distance, and keep reading in the paper that we may be getting closer, very rapidly, to the kind of world system that may drastically, and perhaps tragically and seriously, change our whole lives,” she wrote from Birney, Montana, as World War II ground on overseas. “There seems so little time left to even try to really live, relatively normally. I get very frightened at times.”
33 After several months of loneliness and serious introspection, Marion resigned from FSA in February 1942 and devoted herself to being a mother and a wife. The Wolcotts subsequently spent time in Virginia, where they farmed for ten years; in New Mexico, where Lee taught at the University of New Mexico and Marion taught at an Indian school; and once Lee joined the Agency for International Development, in Iran, Pakistan, Egypt, and India, where Marion assumed the role of a foreign service officer’s wife and taught at American schools abroad.
In looking back at her FSA years, Marion recognized that she was part of a vast propaganda machine. She took a lot of photographs that she referred to as “FSA cheesecake,” pictures of the most attractive and progressive features of programs and regions. Between 1938 and 1942 she captured some very romantic images of the South: panoramic vistas of lush field crops and thoroughbred animals roaming the rolling hills of Virginia; families enjoying auctioning of tobacco in North Carolina; landscaped gardens and palatial estates of aristocrats in South Carolina; jubilant May Day celebrations in Georgia; the good life at trailer parks, resorts, and racetracks in Florida; intoxicating festivities surrounding the annual Cotton Carnival in Tennessee; and country fairs, horse shows, church suppers, and sorghum molasses “stiroffs” in Kentucky among other lyrical scenes and subjects.
34 “In a group of photographs where most of them show the down-trodden in the process of being further down-trodden,” Hank O’Neal has noted, “her photographs often show these people in a lighter, happier vein.”
Marion kept an eye out for the silver lining because she believed in the social-welfare principles of the New Deal, wanted to be part of the “social revolution of the thirties,” and felt that “the FSA documentary project… was a wish to effect social and political changes through visual means.” Although FSA was criticized for “wasting tax payers money on silly irrelevant pictures,” it played an important role in securing funding for the ill-clothed, ill-fed, and ill-housed. “People were awakened to the conditions who never would have been otherwise,” Marion observed.
36 Securing contrast photographs often took Marion off the beaten track and placed her in difficult situations. These experiences revealed that there was more to photography than meets the eye. “Jesus, what a country this is,” Marion once confided to Stryker. “I continue to be startled and shocked and amazed, no matter what I’ve expected.”
37 FSA people were fond of saying that the agency “introduced America to Americans.”
38 Clearly, Marion Post Wolcott played an important role in introducing the South to America, and learned a great deal about herself and the region in the process.
David . “Marion Post Wolcott: FSA Photographs and Recent Works,” Exhibition Guide, Amarillo Art Center, Amarillo, Texas, January 10-February 18, 1979.
The FSA has been seriously treated in F.Jack Hurley, Portrait of a Decade: Roy Stryker and the Development of Documentary Photography in the Thirties (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1972), and Hank O’Neal, A Vision Shared (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976).
See, for example, James Alinder, ed., Marion Post Wolcott: FSA Photographs (Carmel, Calif.: Friends of Photography, 1984), Julie M.Boddy, “The Farm Security Administration Photographs of Marion Post Wolcott: A Cultural History,” Ph.D. diss., State University of New York at Buffalo, 1982, Julie M.Boddy, “Photographing Women: The Farm Security Administration Work of Marion Post Wolcott,” in Lois Scharf and Joan M.Jensen, eds., Decades of Discontent: The Women’s Movement, 1920– 1940 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1984), Richard K.Doud, “Marion Post Wolcott Interview,” January 18, 1965, Archives of American Art, Washington, D.C., Joan Murray, “Marion Post Wolcott,” American Photographer 3 (March 1980):86–93; and Marion Post Wolcott, Symposium Remarks, “The Sun and the Sand: Florida Photography 1885–1983,” Norton Gallery & School of Art, West Palm Beach, Florida, December 3, 1983.
Doud, “Wolcott Interview,” pp. 3–4; Murray, “Marion Post Wolcott,” p. 86.
Roy Stryker to Marion Post, October 6, 1939, the Roy Stryker Papers, The Photographic Archives, The Library, University of Louisville, Louisville, Kentucky. Hereafter the Roy Stryker Papers will be referred to as Stryker MS.
Wolcott remarks at “The Sun and The Sand” Symposium.
Stryker to Post, December 27, 1938, Stryker MS.
O’Neal, A Vision Shared, p. 176.
O’Neal, A Vision Shared, p. 175.
Doud, “Wolcott Interview,” pp. 5, 8.
Stryker to Post, July 14, 1938, Stryker MS.
Doud, “Wolcott Interview,” pp. 18–19.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Stryker to Post, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
See, for example, Post to Stryker, July 28 and 29, 1940; Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, May 8, 1939; Stryker to Post, May 11, 1932, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, August 16, 1940, Stryker MS.
O’Neal, A Vision Shared, p. 176; Post is quoted as Ibid.
Post to Stryker, July 28 and 29, 1940; Clara D.Wakeman letter, August 10, 1940, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, May 15, 1940, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, September 9, 1940, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, May 15, 1940, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, June-July 1940, Stryker MS.
Doud, “Post Interview,” p. 16.
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, June 1940, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, July 5, 1939, Stryker MS.
Stryker to Post, September 21, 1938, Stryker MS.
Post to Stryker, August 21, 1941, Stryker MS.
See, for example, Post to Stryker, January 28, 1939, May 8, 1939, October 25, 1939, May 15, 1940, September 9, 1940, October 2, 1940, January 23, 1941; and Stryker to Post, May 20, 1939, Stryker MS.
O’Neal, A Vision Shared, pp. 175–176.
Doud, “Wolcott Interview.”
Post to Stryker, January 1939, Stryker MS.
Wolcott remarks at “The Sun and The Sand” symposium.